#bar soba

[sharp7datwikk]

SO BAR 保科 - 2024.09.03

『かじゅ��る割烹 しーずん』を出てからは、はしごで『SO BAR 保科』へ。 位置は少しだけJR松本駅へ寄ったところ、訪れたのは今回が初でした。　前店をリニューアルし、5年のときを経てスタートした店は“和風バー”がコンセプト。　蕎麦と馬肉を提供する、バーなのです。 今回は、『ざるそばセット（馬刺し）』と『パリパリそばスティック』を選んでみました。 いやぁ、おもしろい。　食感が、そして喉越しが。　スティックとざるそばとで、こう比較ができるとかなりおもしろい。　そして、馬刺しの恐ろしいまでの旨味。　赤身ならではと思うのですが、鮮度の良さが魅力の一端かと・・・・・・。 うん、またいつか訪れよう♪ ≪PHOTO INFO.≫ CAMERA：Canon EOS M100 LENS：EF-M 22mm 1:2 STM FILTER：— EDIT：Adobe Lightroom

[rickchung]

Jungle Room x West End.

Vancouver's jungle-themed lounge celebrated its first anniverary with a special Indonesian-Japanese menu and new signature cocktails.

Uni soba: buckwheat noodles, sea urchin and lobster dashi butter, sambal celek, and tobiko.

Pork belly babi guling: slow-cooked pork belly, chicharrones, sambal matah, and cabbage wrap.

Sautéed rice cakes: spicy sesame sauce, chili crunch peas, edamame, corn, and wasabi pea crumble.

Pisang Goreng affogato: Indonesian-style banana fritter "churro," caramelized coconut sorbet, and espresso.

[gothsuguru]

Request: Getou feels bad for secretly liking Gojo’s gf and making excuses to touch her.

the enormity of my desire disgusts me

contents: f!reader, one-sided love, obsession, cursing, touching (not unwanted but the intention is unbeknownst to reader as geto makes it a point to always want physical contact w them), mentions of self-destructive behaviors, guilt, & delusions. w.c: ~ 2.3k

a/n: hi! tysm for requesting :’) this is my first ever request/first time writing so please bear w me & i hope you enjoy! constructive criticism is totally welcome! <3

guilt creeps up suguru’s throat like a slithering serpent.

it crawls around the base of his tongue, writhing farther down, embedding its fangs into the flesh of his throat. a raw, mangled, bloody mess left in its wake.

remorse, witnessing the disarray that guilt’s plight leaves, frantically tries to discern where a home can be made. perhaps it can dance along his ribcage. pirouetting across his bones until it reaches a bloody cavern where it can dwell within a hole burrowed deep inside suguru’s heart.

maybe all of this despair can be washed away… a desire to cleanse his palate & purge his feelings away persists, yet he doesn’t allow himself the reprieve.

instead, he decides to swallow his shame down like a bitter whiskey, relishing in the thorn-like pin prickles. the harsh amber reflecting in his fatigued, glassy eyes.

the ache serves as a reminder.

suguru figures that the sharp gnawing pain that spikes his heart & torments his throat is the very least he deserves.

his therapist did say he had a tendency to wallow in his self-destructive thoughts. delude himself & cyclically make bad choices which turned into bad habits. but what’s another bad decision to him? a pyromaniac to his very core; suguru would be lying to himself if he said he didn’t enjoy playing with fire.

allowing himself a moment of respite, he fishes out a cigarette he stole out of shoko’s purse from the left pocket of his leather jacket. a silver heart-shaped vivienne westwood lighter in the right. he takes it out, rolling it softly in his warm palm, lackadaisically playing with the switch. imagining the cold metal were your cold hands instead, his own seeking to offer up warmth for your comfort. he gazes softly at the flame; flickering on and off. on and off. on and off. a burning fire reflected in his eyes. a burning desire razing his heart.

the whole world in the palm of his hands — the heart you presented to him.

(a gift from you to him — you begged him to quit smoking, it was bad for his health and you wanted him to be there in the future as best man at yours & satoru’s wedding. with a tight-lipped smile & crinkled eyes, he said he would.

always the deceiver.

you lit up, gaze softening while telling him to specifically use this lighter to light up the teakwood candle you bought him for his birthday. his smile turned fond, eyes crinkled softly with genuine mirth & adoration, he said he would. and he did.

always the sentimentalist.)

bringing the cigarette to his lips, he exhales a puff of smoke, allowing his low-lidded gaze to flit across the room. the warm lights illuminating the grungy bar, a favorite of nanami’s & shoko’s.

he reminisces on the days where both of you would talk for hours. from deep conversations about space, morality, your futures & pasts, to asking each other about what food you’d eat for eternity (cold zaru soba noodles for him, any form of potato for you), savory or sweet (both of you chose savory — suguru relishes in the fact that he has a connection with you on this), & if you two would still be best friends if the other one was a worm (both of you answered yes — you’d build a terrarium where wormguru could play & suguru would keep you in his pocket not caring if he’d be dubbed the weirdly hot worm-man.) from the serious to the silly, suguru felt his chest bloom with tender warmth. from the bottom of his heart, he knows that in this world and any others, he could truly be himself with you.

a soft sigh escapes him, a small smile gracing his face thinking about his memories with you. calling the bartender over for another drink after he downs his whiskey, he drawls out, “give me somethin’ sweet.”

he turns back around to the crowd of strangers, unintentionally smiling. he finds a few pretty boys & girls gawking at him, hyping themselves and each other up to go talk to him. he sees a few more pretty boys & girls looking away from his intense gaze, too shy to go up to him, praying instead that he’ll go to them.

the grin that previously took residence on his face falters. he finds himself upset that they’d think his smile was reserved for any one of them. none of them pique his interest per usual, & he hopes that the bags underneath his eyes, his myriad of piercings & tattoos, chipped black nail polish, and overall resting bitch face will stop anyone from coming near him.

(he knows it won’t. people often went after suguru and not satoru. he was always more caring, more in tune with his emotions with an air of magnetic mystique, unlike his brash, loud, & arrogant counterpart.)

suguru intakes a sharp breath, surprising himself with the haughty & bitter thought against his best friend, quickly washing it down with a sweet daiquiri hoping to honey the words in both his throat & mind, while simultaneously praying that it would soothe his heart.

slightly more alert, his gaze wanders around the room again. tired eyes widening slightly, lighting up greatly when he sees you.

there you were in all of your glory.

sitting leisurely, a leg swung upon the other, arm resting over the back of the tattered red vinyl couch, the very same one you both had countless conversations on. how were you so effortlessly cool? you could do anything and suguru would revel in it — drawn to you like a moth to a flame.

and like a moth, he found himself gliding across the bar towards you, his feet moving faster than his brain. his body demanding that it be near you, that it be graced with your presence. with a flick of his ring-clad fingers, his cigarette is crushed underneath his black boots. a piece of strawberry gum is popped inside his mouth along with another reapplication of vanilla lip balm to his lips to make sure that you knew they were soft to the touch.

with his heart beating ridiculously fast, he takes a deep breath before he stands in front of you, your perfume enveloping his senses making him slightly delirious from how delectable you smell. he prays that the blush dusting his cheeks fools you into thinking that he just drank too much; that it’s not because of you peering up at him through your lashes with your pretty eyes that are now affectionately directed towards his own.

“yo! suguru! long time no see!” you wave as you get up to greet him, a massive grin overtaking your face, eyes almost crinkled shut because you’re so excited to see one of your best friends.

without warning, suguru envelops you into a tight hug. his left hand placed against your lower back while his right hand cradles your head against his chest, your cheek pressing against his beating heart. suguru places his chin on the top of your head, craning his face slightly to get a whiff of your shampoo, ghosting a faint kiss on your hair that he knows you don’t feel, relishing in this moment with you. for a few seconds he can pretend… he deserves that much at least, he figures.

he could stay holding you in his arms forever, your body pressed up against his, protecting you from everything & everyone bad in this world, shielding you from predatory eyes around the bar. fucking wolves, the lot of them — suguru contemptuously thinks. it’s a good thing you’re here in his arms, suguru muses, confident in his ability to keep you safe.

as quickly as that thought dashes through his brain, you pull away. not wanting to alarm you with his panic that you’d leave him, a tight grip stays around your waist, forcing you to sit back down. he positions himself right next to you, his thighs touching your own, his right arm draped across your shoulder.

something that you can consider friendly.

something that he can consider more than that.

affectionate, no matter which way you take it.

“it’s been a while.” a fond smile beams across his face, bright amber eyes desperately glazing over your face. you’re so close to him and he’s so attentive to you, he imagines that the boy across the bar must think you both look like a couple. the pleasure suguru derives from that thought is second to none. you do look like you’d be his. he’s certain that he looks like he’d be yours, if his devoted nature is anything to go by.

he takes a a few strands of your hair, twirling them slightly around his fingers. “what are you doing here anyways? i wish i saw you before, we could’ve hung out!” suguru teasingly pouts, lips slightly jutted out, his eyes twinkling with playful mirth.

“tell me about it,” you playfully whine. “thankfully i just got here so we have plenty of time to hang out! don’t worry, i’ll make up for it so you can forgive me.”

“you never have to apologize for anything.” seriousness takes over his tone. suguru doesn’t want you to ever feel bad, even as a joke. not wanting to make you uncomfortable with his tense energy, he eases up his features and winks, “don’t worry your pretty little head about it, i’ll let you off the hook this time.”

you bark out a laugh which makes him elated, glad that he was able to make you smile. “sugu, you’re way too sweet! and ooh — you asked what i was doing here! toru wanted to chill out here for a bit, said if he didn’t get to drink a virgin piña colada right this second he’d faint.” you gaze around the bar, muttering under your breath, “he should be on his way here soon…”

right… satoru.

suguru feels his mouth get dry by the second, a venomous pang of guilt daggers his heart. his eye twitches along with his fingers, wondering if he should take his arm off of you.

if satoru saw this would he just consider it friendly touching? would he think that suguru was trying to make the moves on you? would he scream in his face about how can his best friend stab him in the back this way? the bitter taste of betrayal coats suguru’s tongue like a curse, and before he can do anything about it, a big SMACK! on his shoulder wakes him out of his trance.

“SUGUUUUUUUU! I MISSED YOUUUUUUU!” satoru bursts out onto the scene loudly, holding both your & suguru’s shoulders from behind the couch, bringing you two towards each other in a massive hug. with satoru’s face in the middle, smooshing both of your & suguru’s cheeks against his, suguru can’t help but feel a gnawing sense of shame.

satoru, affectionate as ever, kisses you both on the cheek. snowy hair ruffling with his actions, aquamarine eyes twinkling as bright as starlight, white eyelashes fluttering against the pink blush hued upon his soft cheeks. from here, suguru can see the light dusting of freckles on satoru’s nose, & the lightest sheen of gloss on his pink lips. no doubt from kissing you before he got here.

a twisted part of suguru is thankful for the kiss on the cheek, your glossy residue imprinted on his skin. an indirect kiss, he muses.

“sorry it took so long, i had to park so far away. hope you didn’t miss me too much, angel.” satoru pecks you on the cheek again, cheekily stealing an upside down kiss on the lips from you while he’s at it.

“no worries baby, i had sugu to keep me company.” you smile wide, eyes softening as satoru smoothes down your hair.

suguru forgot.

satoru trusts him with his entire life. with you.

the loud, brash, arrogant, self-centered boy suguru knew as a teen had grown up. cleaning up his act the moment he met you. enamored with your beauty, kindness, & personable nature — satoru fell deeply in love. he was still loud, but only to proclaim his love on the rooftops for you. he was brash at times but never with you. his arrogance was also truly never unfounded, he was just that confident in his own self and in the relationship he could have with you. suguru still thinks satoru can be self-centered at times, but never about you.

satoru puts you forward in every single aspect of his life — devoted. loyal. faithful. unbelievably constant with his love & adoration for you. your perfect other half.

your true soulmate.

you’re his one and only. and he’s yours.

“satoru! it’s been a while.” suguru prays the loud music can cover up the slight crack in his voice. he can feel his throat constricting like a python, he coughs to clear it, wanting to rid himself of the strangling feeling. he does what he does best in that moment: putting on a facade. a tight-lipped smile along with crinkled eyes graces his features, and he hopes that both you & satoru mistake it for pure happiness.

“you good, man?” satoru tilts his head like a puppy, looking at him questioningly. you do the same, concern clouding your beautiful eyes. he’s terrified that you both could see right through him.

“yeah.” suguru whispers quietly.

the ache that torments his throat & spikes his heart serves as a reminder.

he puts his warm hand over your cold ones in a comforting gesture. for who would it bring solace? he doesn’t know. at this point in time, he can’t bring himself to care. “just the summer heat.”

he brushes his thigh against yours once again, fiddling with your fingers softly. he figures he can allow himself this.

glancing into your eyes, his reflection stares back him.

he accepts that living with this ache of shame & this disgusting sense of desire is the very least someone like him deserves.

he figures he should allow it to devour him.

[realisticfanfictions]

Hi! Can I as for headcanons just like the "being their Gf" from Sanji but with zoro? I would love that😁💖

Ahhh! I didn't realise this was a feature! Sorry about that, I hope this makes up for it! <3 (Not edited or beta-read.)

♥ 𝘽𝙚𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙞𝙧 𝙂𝙁: 𝙕𝙤𝙧𝙤 ♥

𝘏𝘰𝘸 𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘔𝘦𝘵:

It's your typical love story, except with swords, and blood, and screaming. Lots of screaming.

You were just an average girl with an unhealthy obsession with starting fights you had no real chance of winning. Though, it wasn't your fault when no-good crooks hit on you or touched you whenever you walked by. In fact, you'd actually earned a nickname; "The Red Ogre."

It was the festival of the Lunar Eclipse, and people from all around had come just for this one spectacular occasion. From wealthy tourists to mountain bandits, the streets were packed like dried sardines in a cat's mouth. You didn't know where this expression came from, but it suited the moment rather well.

You'd just finished bottling up the last of the sake and were bringing it over to the market stall you shared with the local soba man, when you felt something brush your ass. Yeah, no. That wasn't happening.

With practiced precision, you whipped around and felt all of your energy rush to your fist, connecting it with the asshole's jaw and sending him flying into a pile of watermelons.

Everyone could hear you screaming profanities and death threats against the pile of human trash, grabbing him by the collar and repeatedly driving your fist into his face again, and again, and again.

Once his face resembled a tumor (not that it didn't already) and you were satisfied with permanently altering his face shape, you stepped back and spat on the ground next to him, blood running down your fist.

You heard a whistle. "Hate to be on the receiving end." When you turned around, you were met with a man with three swords strapped to his waist slowly walking towards you. His eyes were on the carnage that lay on the ground beneath you, but your own were fixed on his unusually coloured hair.

Before you could say anything, you felt the man grab onto your leg and you prepared yourself for another onslaught, but you didn't need to. The hand that had wrapped itself around your ankle suddenly went limp as the swordsman effortlessly disconnected it from the man's body.

That's where the screaming came in, but without sparing a second thought he simply hoisted the man over his shoulder and, while taking a bottle of your sake, flashed you a smirk. "Thanks for the free bounty."

That's when you decided you wanted to become a bounty hunter.

𝘒𝘦𝘺 𝘔𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵 1#:

You didn't see the mysterious swordsman after that, he disappeared in the midst of the festival and seemingly also disappeared from your life.

A few months went by and you'd already collected a few high profile bounties. Ever heard of "Six-Finger Trigger"? Well, you certainly never would again. With a comfortable 3 million berries almost always in your pocket, you slowly became well known in the East Blue as a fierce fighter.

Just like a crappy romance novel, you were hunting down some loser with a 7 million berry bounty on his head (well, you're sure a novel like that existed somewhere) when you bumped into a familiar face. The swordsman stepped out of the bar and immediately locked eyes onto you as if he could sense you watching him. A smirk stretched across his face. "The Red Ogre," He called out as he warily approached. "Never thought I'd see you again."

You snarkily replied that you didn't think he'd bother with a bounty this low, and the man scoffed. "I was in the area." He coolly responded and before you both could react, you were surrounded.

The look you shared spoke more than words ever could. In a split second, you went from cracking your knuckles to cracking the closest pirate's skull wide open. You both were brutal in your assault, but with him it was like watching a ribbon dancer gracefully gliding along the stage with each slash and dismemberment his swords wickedly inflicted.

By the time it was over, you both were panting and sweating over the bodies of about 30 men who'd either had their skulls bashed in, or their bodies almost cut clean in half. You huffed and cracked your neck, commenting how you clearly had more victims than him. He scoffed and pulled the sword out of his mouth, sheathing it. "Don't be ridiculous," He sheathed the other two and then pointed to the bodies. "There's more blood than teeth."

You replied that by punching out teeth, you added to the blood but he just shook his head in mild disbelief. "You're just jealous I won a competition I didn't even know we were having." He thought for a moment, then flicked his head toward the bar he had left only a few minutes ago. "How about another friendly competition?"

The competition ended in a tie when the bar ran out of liquor, but sometime during the night when he'd downed his 33rd glass of tap beer, you told him your name. He placed down his mug, looked over at you and smiled. "Zoro." He simply said and called for another round.

𝘒𝘦𝘺 𝘔𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵 2#:

It was only natural that you two became a hunting duo after that. It was big news in the bounty hunting world that the two most prevalent names in the East Blue teamed up, especially because you were also the most brutal. The Red Ogre and the Demon of the East Blue (your name was obviously better) were as feared as the bounties you hunted, and no one was safe when you had them in your sights.

But what they didn't see were the times like now, where even walking in a straight line with Zoro felt like traveling between realms and ending up in a completely different place than where you intended to go.

You rolled your eyes when you past by the same graffiti-covered rock for the fourth time and asked if he had any idea where you both were going. "The barkeep said he was just down the road in the casino." Your eyes widened, that was three hours ago!!

You smacked his arm. How the hell did you get from "go down the block to the casino" to being in the middle of the goddamn jungle?! He held your hands and slowly leaned in, his eyes steeled as always. "Don't be ridiculous." He slowly looked around, then squinted his eyes. "The trees moved."

Before you could continue your assault, a twig snapped and you both were suddenly back to back, ready for anything. Out of the shadows, a gorilla poked his head out and grunted at the two of you. You smirked and commented that you didn't know Zoro had a brother. "You wish I had a brother," He replied and turned his head so he could smirk at you. "Then maybe you would finally get laid and stop being such a bitch."

Trust me, you told him, between the two of you he was the bitch. "Oh really?" Yes, only a bitch would need to hide behind swords, instead of using his fists. Something flashed in his eyes. "Bet on it?" Of course you did.

After lending you his two swords (he wouldn't let the white one out of his sight), you both ended up not only finding your bounty, but you also managed to destroy half the island while getting used to your new weapons. You won, but comprised and called it a tie.

𝘞𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘩𝘦 𝘢𝘴𝘬𝘦𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘰𝘶𝘵:

It took quite a while for the both of you to realise you had feelings for each other. In fact, it wasn't until Zoro had up and joined Luffy that you felt... lost without him.

It's weird when you've spent so much of your life with someone and they suddenly stop being there. Hell, you'd even crashed in the same bed more often than not just cause it'd save you some coin. It was just... weird without him there.

You wouldn't see him again until you just so happened to be at the Baratie when he dueled Mihawk. It was practically a slaughter, and it hurt seeing someone you'd grown to care for fall to the ground - sliced practically in half.

You helped the rest of the crew get him onboard and asked Luffy, the weird, rubber man Zoro dedicated his life to, if you could stay with them until the swordsman was healed. Luffy, of course, agreed and you stayed by your partner's side until he woke up a short time later.

It was almost midnight when he groaned and shuffled in his sleep, slowly opening his eye and sighing when he caught sight of you. "Thought I'd finally gotten rid of you." Not caring if he was hurt, you smacked his arm and told him you thought he had died. He scoffed and groaned. "I wouldn't die like that, shithead."

You called him the shithead and tried to hit him again, but he caught your wrist. This wasn't like the other times he's done this, however. His grip slowly lessened and his hand slowly ran up your skin until his fingers intertwined with yours. He brought your combined hands up to his cheek and placed your palm against his skin.

His eyes flicked closed for a second and he seemed to just breathe for a moment, like he was savouring your touch. Those steely greys met your eyes once more and a slow sigh escaped him. "You better not leave me again." He mumbled against your skin and placed a kiss to the inside of your palm.

A smirk crossed your lips, bet on it?

His own smirk crossed his features, the one that you'd grown to both love and hate and the one that made your heart flutter. "Of course."

[odieoats]

𝐎𝐟 𝐌𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬𝐮𝐲𝐮 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐌𝐞𝐫𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐂𝐨𝐩𝐢𝐞𝐬

summary: After messing up his soba order, Pro Hero Shouto can’t get enough of it- or, just maybe, can’t get enough of you.

cw: Pro Hero!Todoroki x server!reader. 18+ smut, praise kink, afab!reader (they/them pronouns, afab anatomy), oral sex (m and reader receiving), penetrative sex, slight temperature play. reader is attacked by a villain, but it’s short and pretty nonviolent. I have worked in many a kitchen, but never a Soba kitchen- sorry to my Soba waiters out there.

wc: 5.4k

Hi guys, I’m so incredibly excited to debut my first fic on this blog! Even better, it’s for The Teahouse server’s secret fic exchange. This is written with all my love for the lovely @/kaiapaia I’m hoping you enjoy what I came up with according to your prompt 🥺

The kitchen is on fire, almost as literally as it is figuratively, when you clock in to work at your third swing shift in a row.

The old shopworn curtain separating the front counter from the kitchen is kept solely for posterity at this point. Through the fibers of the cloth, gaping holes the size of a toddler’s fist, you can see the disembodied head of your kitchen manager frowning sternly at the expeditor. The rest of her is obscured by the remaining threads of the curtain, but you can easily imagine her stance- arms folded across her body, leg extended and toe tapping- ready to chew your head off for being three whole minutes late.

Dashi broth and fear have smelled eerily alike ever since you started working at the once family-owned soba restaurant in Musutafu. It had changed hands more times than you could count since then; the early days, before your clunky cash till was replaced by an iPad screen with convenient, dummy-proof pictures, long gone. The current management (if you could call it that) had driven out most of the original staff. It’s only you left, loyal to a fault and desperate for the extra cash seniority brings you at this job as you finish up your degree. It keeps you and your goldfish fed, and that’s about all you could ask for.

You tie your apron around your waist, stealing a few pens from the cup near the to-go register and shoving them into the pocket that held your server pad. Your manager sees you- of course she does- through the curtain before you’re even in the kitchen.

“Guess who called out today?” She scoffs, moving to stand near the empty sauce bar. Your tardiness is pardoned by the absence of your coworker, for now, for what it’s worth. She lifts the lid of the prep fridge, more tears of condensation collecting on the inside of the metal nine pan than pre-portioned broth cups. “Prep’s fucked.”

You already knew what Suzume was asking you- and it wasn’t your job to prep. The hostess had already given you your tables, some of them already seated and awaiting food courtesy of the lunch shift. You hadn’t even touched back of house work since the original owners had left. The ratios that had once been second nature were now fuzzily teetering at the edge of your memories. What went into the mentsuyu? A cup of soy? A few teaspoons- no- tablespoons of mirin?

Your idling forms are an unwelcome sight in the otherwise bustling kitchen. Another waitress muscles her way past you, shoulder knocking into yours in a way that feels intentional, as she plucks three or four containers of broth out of the fridge. It makes the sight even more miserable.

“Who's going to take my tables?” You ask, though your tone betrayed the fact that you were already relenting. Being stubborn about the situation would not change the fact that things still needed to get done.

Suzume shrinks at your question, a sheepish smile stretching across her face as a nonverbal admission that no one would be.

“Absolutely not.”

“Please, I need you– there’s absolutely no one else available today!” Suzume says, almost petulantly, slumping against the sauce bar in a way that bares her age. She’s only a few years older than you- much less demanding than your older managers, despite her Type A tendencies. Her obvious distress almost instills pity, a sort of guilt washing over you for not being able to do anything about the lack of staff. Still, you weren’t being paid nearly enough to do two people’s jobs at the same time.

Another bout of protests are poised behind your lips, but you’re interrupted by the hostess poking her face through a hole in the curtain.

“Need a cold soba broth base, on the fly, now. Shouto’s here.”

Both you and your manager peep through separate rifts in the curtain, scanning the lobby for the notorious semi-regular. When your manager spots him, already seated at his usual booth in the far corner of the restaurant, she tugs at your sleeve and points her index finger through the hole. There’s no missing the shock of white and red hair peeking out from above the booth- it’s definitely, unmistakably Pro-Hero Shouto. You’re pulled back into the kitchen and away from the view of the lobby where other patrons had also just caught wind of Shouto’s appearance, whispering amongst themselves all at once. Suzume’s hands are on your shoulders as she pleads.

“Here’s the deal. You prep the sauces, and I’ll take half of your tables– for an hour. Until Shouto leaves.” Suzume says, and, for good measure, sucks some air into her cheeks before sighing. “You can even take his booth. He’s considerably generous, if you catch my drift.”

You’ve heard from your other coworkers that much, at the very least. In all your time working at the restaurant, you hadn’t had the opportunity to be his server. Whether you were training a new hire, helping back of house with prep, or preoccupied with too many tables already, Shouto had somehow evaded you. The thought of serving him made you nervous, even though, realistically, it shouldn’t. He seemed nice enough in interviews and the ads that break up your late night television binging. And yet, the sight of his muscular frame squeezed a little too tightly into the narrow corner booth never failed to make you anxious. Butterflies, you’d probably call them, had you still been an infatuated teenager- but you’re older now, and a Pro Hero is, quite frankly, way out of your league.

“Fine, whatever.” You grumble, “Just get the recipe booklet from the office for me.”

You make your way out of the kitchen, making sure to apologize about the wait to the patrons you passed. Your heart races the closer you get to Shouto’s table, serving book clenched tightly in your hands.

“You’re not my usual waitress.”

His tone and expression are even, despite the intensity in his heterochromatic eyes as he scans over you. You’re suddenly a little insecure in your uniform. Your white button-up is a little too tight from constant cycling in the laundry and the cheap brand of black slacks you own are infamously unflattering. It’s true that regulars weren’t usually clambering to see you in particular, but it still hurt a little to disappoint him.

“I’m sorry, we’re a little short staffed today, so your usual waitress probably isn’t in–“

“I see you around here all the time. You just aren’t my usual waitress. It’s a nice change.”

“O-oh, thank you.” You say, face warming, tapping your notepad with the back of your pen. “I think it’s just a formality for me to ask what you’d like. Cold soba? Extra shredded daikon on the side?”

“You know my order.” He says, halfway between a question and a statement. There’s a small smile that breaks the even line of his mouth, and honestly, he’s a little too handsome to look at. You force yourself not to stare, eyes wandering toward the napkin holder next to him that would probably need to be refilled once he left.

“‘Course I do.”

We all do, you think, though you weren’t so keen on letting the pro hero know that he was a frequent name on the tips of every worker’s tongue. Instead, you just shrug and smile at him. “Anything else today?”

“That’ll be all. Thank you.”

You bow politely at him before scuttling into the kitchen.

You prepare some dipping sauce, one for Shouto and several others as backup, but quickly stepping into the walk-in for extra ingredients seemed to be a mistake. By the time you’ve come back, all of your prepared sauces were gone, and even worse, so was the recipe booklet. You curse, unable to recall what you had just put together. Shouto was surely growing impatient, and you had no time to spend looking for the recipe. Instead, you freestyle a cup of mentsuyu. You’ve done it so many times in the past that the process should be muscle memory… right?

You rush out of the kitchen and timidly set the tray of soba down onto Shouto’s table, waiting for him to take a bite. There’s a sudden rush of anxiety swirling in your stomach as you watch him gather the soba noodles into a neat bundle with his chopsticks and dip them into the mentsuyu. He raises the chopsticks to his lips, and you swear that time slows as he opens his mouth.

Shouto’s face breaks its cool exterior, knitting his eyebrows together at the taste, but the expression passes as soon as it’s come. You let out a snarky breath. Hopefully that meant that he was okay with the taste, even if it wasn’t precise.

“Do- do you need anything else?”

“No.” He hums, in a way that you choose to interpret as contentedly. “Thank you, for everything.”

“Of course!” You squeak, bowing again before heading back into the kitchen.

The recipe booklet is, somehow, miraculously where it had once been on the prep table. You flip to the mentsuyu page in record speed, eyes flickering to the measurements for each ingredient.

Fuck. You weren’t even close.

And whatever acrid concoction you created is currently being consumed by Pro-Hero Shouto. Son of Endeavor. The Shouto Todoroki. A voice in the back of your head is screaming at you that you’ll be arrested for attempted poisoning.

You’re beyond embarrassed when you go to hand him the check, but are surprised to see an empty wooden tray. He had eaten all of it.

He’s polite as he takes the check from your hands, thanking you again and- god, his stare really was intense.

Moreover, the rather sizable tip signed at the bottom of the merchant copy of his receipt seems to imply that he really, really liked it.

“Woah.” Suzume says, later that night as she’s checking the register’s balance. “He usually tips well, but never that well.”

“Yeah, I… really don’t know why.” You call from your place sweeping underneath the booths in the lobby. During your break, you had even attempted to recreate the abominable sauce for your comp meal. It was awful- too salty, too bitter, and somehow a little oily. You were starting to think that the only flaw Shouto Todoroki had was his apparent poor taste.

“Well, whatever you’re doing, keep doing it.” Suzume laughs, handing you your share of the tips from dinner service.

—-

And so you do.

His visits to the soba shop became even more frequent after that. Stranger still, Shouto had taken to requesting you in particular to be his server. He was a little more talkative than you imagined him to be- interested in what you did outside of work, what you were studying, what your hobbies were. Whatever you had done with the mentsuyu, he apparently couldn’t get enough. Suzume had even clued you in on the fact that Shouto would ask about you even when you weren’t scheduled. Soon, even your other coworkers had noticed, envious of the attention (and, more importantly, money) that Shouto paid you. You were embarrassed to admit how you’d discovered what Shouto liked, especially considering your seniority over everyone else in the restaurant, so whenever anyone asked you what your secret was, you simply gave a vague answer and continued working. Some one-sided tension brewed between you and your coworkers, but you ducked your head and hoped that the whole ordeal would blow over- maybe Shouto would snap to his senses and realize the garbage he was eating.

“I need you to go out for a delivery.” Suzume says one day, before you’re even clocked in.

“We don’t deliver.” You say, though you already knew that you didn’t have to remind Suzume of that. The smirk on her face was enough for you to know that she had something devious up her sleeve.

“We do today.” Suzume proudly proclaims, setting an already prepared paper bag in front of you. It had been shoddily stapled together, but the smell of buckwheat and freshly shaved daikon clued you in to what was contained within. “Shouto called. Wants you to deliver it to his agency. You just gotta make the mentsuyu.”

“His agency?” You repeat, searching Suzume’s expression for any hint that she’s joking- and she’s not. “Suzume, I don’t have a car. I’m not riding the bus to deliver this thing.”

Suzume fishes around her pockets and pulls out the keys to her infamous teal moped, parked just outside the shop. “Treat my baby well, okay?”

—-

You walk past the sliding glass doors of Shouto’s agency and are immediately impressed by the size of it. Though Shouto had only been on the scene for a few years, his agency was large and neatly organized. It was jarring to see sidekicks and heroes that you had only seen on the news brush past you, all larger than life. You felt extraordinarily unextraordinary making your way to the receptionist’s desk as heroes walked and rolled and flew past you.

“Welcome to the Todoroki Agency.” The receptionist smiles, eyes flickering to the bag of food in your hands. “Dropping off a delivery?“

“Yeah, for Shouto.” You say, resting the food on the counter in front of her.

She nods, punching in the number to Shouto’s office. Holding the phone to her face, she turns her attention back to you. “You can probably just leave it there, I’ll have someone– oh! Hello, Shouto-san. Yes, your food is here. I can have– oh, alright then. Are you sure you don’t want me to have it brought up to you? Of course, my pleasure sir.”

The receptionist puts the phone back onto the receiver and cocks her head at you. “Shouto-san said he’d like to talk to you, if you have the time.”

You blink at that, not sure if you should take him up on that offer. You were still on the clock, after all, and it was nearing the time the shop usually had its lunch rush. Still, the fact that he wanted to talk to you at all made your stomach do flips. Butterflies.

Suzume owes you for making you go out of your way for the delivery. She can wait a little longer for you to return, you decide.

The elevator chimes from the end of the hall, and out emerges Pro Hero Shouto in all his glory. His eyes find you instantly, a small smile turning the corner of his lips.

“I’m glad to see you here.” Shouto says as he approaches the reception table. “I’m busy with paperwork today, so I couldn’t come to eat in person.”

“We don’t usually do deliveries.” You explain. A flash of concern crosses Shouto’s face, perhaps upset at himself for interrupting the regular flow of the restaurant, but you quickly backtrack. “But my manager was more than happy to make an exception- and I’m always happy to spend more time with you.”

Too far. Embarrassment finds a home in your stomach, but Shouto simply smirks, seemingly pleased with your answer.

“Nice helmet.” He gestures toward your head at Suzume’s teal eyesore. You’re mortified- you hadn’t thought to take the helmet off, thinking that doing so would be unjustifiable for such a short delivery. You must look like such a nerd, standing there inside his agency alongside heroes with a helmet on.

“Well, you know. Safety first.”

God, you were bad at this. This is the first time that Shouto has ever stood next to you. You’re used to seeing him sat in his booth, where the two of you were closer to eye level. Now, standing up straight and tall, a tower of muscle, you couldn’t help but feel nervous.

At least Shouto finds it funny.

“Would you want to continue our conversation in my office?”

You balk at that, heart skipping several beats at the thought of being alone with him in his office. Sitting across from him as he ate soba at his desk, chatting like friends. Like lovers–

“I’m sorry. I can’t.” You grab the bag from the counter and hand it to him. “I’m on the clock, and Suzume is gonna start sending the dogs after me if I’m gone for too long.”

Shouto hums, reaching for the bag of food. His left hand brushes yours, considerably warmer than your own. It’s a reminder of his extraordinary Quirk– of the divide that separates you. You linger there for a moment before you pull your arm back, embarrassed by how much you wanted his touch.

“Well, you’re welcome back any time.” Shouto offers, but you’re already walking out of the door, too embarrassed to look back- to notice the way Shouto stared at you as you left.

—-

A few days later, for some reason or another, Suzume needed to go home early. She had told you that much at the beginning of the shift, before pleading that you cover her closing duties. There were tears, there were promises of covering your future shifts, and some extra cash slipped in as incentive. Though her reasons for leaving were shoddy at best, you still agreed to cover her.

– and so you had stayed an extra 45 minutes, balancing the register, taking inventory, and writing the following day’s morning prep sheets. Your main motivation took shape in the takeout bag that sat behind the to-go register. Paid for but forgotten, completely up for grabs. Before you lock up for the night, you remember to snag the bag off of the counter. You jiggle the handle to the restaurant a few times, just to make sure there would be no unexpected break-ins that the higher ups could pin you for.

The street is quiet. The wind that carries the chill of the night brushes against your cheeks on your brisk walk home. The soba shop’s close proximity to your apartment was what initially drew you to it - the bus was your first option most days, when it decided to arrive on time, but the walk wasn’t too bad either. It was only fifteen minutes on a relatively well-lit and busy street, so even at night, you still felt somewhat secure. You hold your bag of leftovers close to your chest, comforted by the warmth emanating from the vegetable tempura meant to compliment your cold soba. Despite having to stay late in order to pick up Suzume’s slack, you were in high spirits.

‘I really have to ask for a raise’ is the thought that distracts you from the man leaning against the lamp post.

When you stumble, you almost mistake it for your own carelessness. It’s only when you look down and see his hand, unnaturally extended and stuck on to the back of your upper thigh, that you realize someone else was responsible for you near-fall. You gasp aloud, dropping the bag of food in your hands. It falls to the ground with an ugly clatter, broth staining the sidewalk beneath it. Your hands rush to the site where you’re connected, scrambling to pry the unwelcome limb away from you. It hurts a little when you try to rip him off, mortified to find out that his palm was stuck onto you like a piece of velcro. Even trying to take a step forward tugged unpleasantly on your skin.

“I just wanna talk, baby.” The man laughs. “Can’t a guy have some fun?”

“Get the fuck off of me!” You yell back, hands anxious and fumbling. If you could just get a good grasp on him, maybe you could just bite your lip and rip him off like a bandaid.

Before the man can get any closer or move his other hand to another part of your body, a rush of cold air overwhelms your surroundings. The grip on your thigh is replaced by an intense cold, seeping through your pants. Your skin throbs underneath your slacks, the ice freezing the fabric to the back of your thigh. Even though it hurts, you know you’re safe. You don’t even need to look up to know that Shouto’s there, but you do anyway. Your eyes meet his, and you find a tenderness there, a comfort, before he turns his attention back to the offender. He’s encased to the throat with ice, rendering him completely immobile.

“I’ve contacted the authorities, they’ll be coming to collect you soon.” Shouto says coolly, though his right hand is still extended toward the man as a warning- a reminder that there was nothing stopping the hero from completing his transformation into a full iceberg.

When the man simply chokes on a pained gargle, Shouto lowers his arm.

“I would have frozen his tongue off if he tried to say anything smart.” Shouto whispers to you, and you snort despite yourself. His left hand hovers above the junction where you were frozen together, a small flame melting the ice until you’re able to break away from the glaciar of the man next to you.

You reach your hand behind you, touching the tender spot at the back of your thigh. You hiss, retracting your arm as quickly as you had put it there.

Shouto frowns at your pained expression. “I’m sorry, it wasn’t my intention to hurt you.”

“You saved me. I’ll take a freezer-burnt leg over whatever the alternative would be.”

Shouto softly exhales, eyes flickering to where he had frozen you. “Is the back of your leg still cold? Could I– would you like me to warm it for you?”

Your eyes widen at that, too taken aback to speak properly. Instead, you simply nod, letting Shouto kneel behind you. His left hand is steadfast and professional, hovering just above the afflicted area. Despite that, you can’t help but feel your nerves ignite, knowing that he was so tantalizing close to touching you. The heat from his hand inspires another heat deep within your core, especially when you glance back at Shouto kneeling on the ground behind you and notice his lingering gaze at the assets that lived just above your thighs–

When the police arrive, you’re quick to make your statement. Gathering the bag of food that you had ejected out of your hands earlier, you’re disappointed to find that you had lost nearly half of both containers of broth. You’ll still eat it, of course, but the moisture soiling all of the containers makes everything a bit unappetizing.

“Are you walking home? I thought that you had a moped?” Shouto asks as you’re about to leave. You stand, damp takeout bag in hand, surprised that he had remembered Suzume’s moped from your visit to the agency.

“It’s my manager’s. I usually walk or take the bus home, but I had to stay late tonight.” You explain.

Shouto frowns, something that wrinkles the sides of his mouth, like it was his own personal failing that had you in the clutches of the villain that he had literally saved you from.

“Let me walk you home.” Shouto says, moving to grab the takeout bag from you. You knew that you’d probably be okay with walking the rest of the way home, but Shouto’s face read as though he had already made up his mind- he was going to walk you home. And you really didn’t mind being doted on by him for just a little longer.

When you approach the door of your apartment, you pause. You know you should probably call it a night, thank Shouto for what he had done and that you’d see him next time he decided to stop in for lunch, but you can’t help wanting to be a little selfish. You wanted to occupy a little more of his time, if he’d let you.

“Do you want to come inside and eat some of this?” You ask.

Shouto looks confused for a moment, and you swear you notice a slight red tint to the man’s cheeks before you gesture to the takeout container.

“Someone forgot to pick up their takeout order- there should be two zaru soba sets and some tempura, if you’re interested.”

“Ah,” Shouto says, looking down at the bag in his hand. “I would very much enjoy that.”

You unlock your apartment door, flickering the lights on and kicking some of the clutter you had laying on the floor underneath the couch before Shouto could come in. You tell Shouto that he could start eating the soba at your coffee table if he’d like, and that you could throw some tea on if he wanted.

He declines, sitting on your rug, salvaging the containers of broth and mentsuyu and noodles. When you sit down across from him, you watch as he dips the buckwheat into the sauce and takes a bite. His eyes widen, and you’re about launch into a tangent about how the sauce probably wasn’t how he liked it today, when he suddenly says:

“This tastes a lot better than it normally does.”

Something inside you breaks.

“You… prefer it this way?” You ask slowly, unbelieving, shocked when Shouto nods.

“It’s usually shit.” Shouto says, completely deadpan.

You laugh. You can’t help yourself. It’s a full, straight from the gut, ugly chortle. You can barely find the breath required to respond to him. “You– I messed up your order, but you tipped so much and kept coming back, so I thought– I thought you liked it that way.”

“You’ve been purposefully poisoning me this whole time?” Shouto asks, an eyebrow raised at you as you try to compose yourself, but the soft grin that graces his lips lets you know that you won’t really end up the next person arrested.

“You kept coming back to the shop! And asking for me in particular! I thought you just had bad taste.” You explain, wiping your eyes. “Why did you keep coming back if you hated it so much?”

Shouto pauses, letting his eyes wash over you. He’s focused on your lips when he confesses.

“I wasn’t going for the soba.”

It takes a minute for you to process what he had said, feeling your body light aflame once more. You can’t believe this is happening. Having Pro Hero Shouto in your living room is surreal itself, but implying that he was interested in you? You wonder if you’re dreaming or if this was all an elaborate prank by management to punish you for messing up on the job.

Shouto packs away his portion of food, analyzing your body and expression again. “Is your thigh still cold?”

Absolutely not, you think, but nod anyway. A little too enthusiastically, but that doesn’t deter Shouto. He moves to you, extends his hand to help you up from the ground, and pulls you close by your waist. You’re flush against his chest, close enough to feel his heartbeat, the erratic thrumming a twin to your own. His left hand grazes the back of your thigh, right underneath your ass. His hand is warm, firmly grasping the meat of your thigh. Though only slightly warmer than the rest of his body, his touch feels searing to your invigorated nerves.

“Tell me if I’m going too far.”

“You’re not.” You whisper, wrapping your arms around his neck. “Go further.”

His lips meet yours then, and your body turns to putty. He lifts you with ease, a perk of having that immense Pro Hero strength, and rests you on your couch.

“What’re you doing?” You pant when he breaks away, his hands at the button of your slacks.

“You asked me if I wanted to eat some of this.” He says, kneeling down in front of you. “And I do.”

You shimmy out of your pants, and Shouto wastes no time. His mouth presses a hot kiss against your clothed sex before peeling the offending material to the side, the flat of his tongue stroking up and swirling around your clit. You whimper, hips bucking into his face. Shouto is a man on a mission, mouth unyielding, groaning at the taste of you.

“You taste so good, angel.” He mutters against you, “Better than the soba.”

“Let it go.” You groan, though you can’t stay angry at him for long, not when he’s wrapping his lips around your clit. You can feel him smiling, the little shit, at making you flustered.

When he sinks his fingers into you, curling his digits and stroking the spongy roof that lived there, it’s over for you. Your thighs squeeze the sides of his head as you cum and Shouto moans, his free hand squeezing the tent that had grown between his own legs. Rolling waves of pleasure overtake you as you gasp Shouto’s name, his fingers and mouth unrelenting until your body calms.

He’s peppering the inside of your thighs with warm, wet kisses, and you swear he’s about to go in for seconds before you interrupt him.

“Bedroom, Shouto.”

At your command, he’s lifting you again, carrying you first to your bathroom (you should’ve clarified the direction) and then to your bedroom, laying you down on your mattress. Shouto is quick to undress, pulling his pants and boxers down in quick succession. You sit up from your bed, biting your lip at the sight of his cock. You can’t help but kiss the pink tip, salty precum staining your lips, before taking him completely into your mouth. Shouto lets out a shaky breath as you work your mouth on his cock.

“You’re– a lot better at this than you are at sauce making.”

Any protest you might’ve had dies with the firm grip he holds on the back of your head.

“You’re doing great, angel. So good for me, so perfect.” He whispers, encouraging you as he shallowly thrusts into your mouth, careful not to overwhelm you. “Mouth feels so good on my cock.”

He pulls away, suddenly, his breath labored, and gently presses you back into your mattress. You strip yourself free of your remaining clothing and Shouto pauses.

“Is everything okay?” You ask, gazing up from your spot underneath him.

“You’re beautiful.” Shouto says, a hand moving to grasp your breast. He seizes your nipple between his thumb and forefinger, and you arch into his touch. “I’ve wanted this since the first time I saw you in the restaurant.”

You can’t imagine that- Shouto gazing at you while you did your silly little tasks at the soba shop. Wanting you like this, stoking the embers of longing within him like you had for him.

“Me too.” You whisper, and Shouto slowly thrusts into you, one hand steadying itself on your hip and another on your breast. Your body screams with the need to touch him, too, so you run your hand up the length of his abs from underneath his shirt. It’s unfair, you think, that his shirt is still on. His body was sculpted by the gods themselves, all muscles and lean sinew. You think of the shirtless photos that exist of him on the internet, either for hero photo shoots or paparazzi shots of his suit ripped open during battle.

And now that same man is above you, rolling his hips into you, whispering into your ear about how wet and tight and perfect you are around him.

“I’m not gonna last much longer, angel.” He mutters against your neck. “Let me kiss you more.”

Your lips move sloppily together, rhythm dictated by Shouto’s deep thrusts inside of you, tongues working together as you drive each other closer and closer still to the edge. You cum again, throbbing around his cock, arching your back as he continues rocking against you. Shouto’s not far behind you, a strangled gasp spilling from his lips as his hips still.

Shouto rolls over, hand finding yours in the darkness. His thumb strokes over yours, watching you gently as your breath evens out.

“Shouldn’t have spent so much money on some shitty soba.” You mumble, nuzzling your head into the crook of his neck.

“I’ll get lunch somewhere else for a change.” Shouto says, pressing a kiss to your head. “Preferably with you.”

“I think that can be arranged.”

You were starting to get sick of soba, anyway.

[soundspeachytome]

baby fever - shohei ohtani au

summary: (i don't think this needs a summary, the title says it all lol)

word count: 10,584K

tags: fluff, mentions of sex, impregnation

other notes: midnight word vomit things~ i honestly didn't think i would be able to write something so soon after the one i posted on NYE but i'm blaming that video of shohei playing with some kids on my timeline. my thoughts have secured me a seat in hell.

enjoy and cry in delusion with me.

=====================================

Shohei couldn’t help himself but beam all the way home. He had spent his entire day surrounded by a group of kids no older than twelve years old, the youngest around five, to help facilitate the annual children sports camp at the elementary school he worked at. Being the only teacher who had played baseball during his primary and secondary years in school, he was elected by default to coach a few hours’ session of baseball basics to which he did not object. Aside from that, he also helped facilitate another few hours in assisting the lead teachers during the games like scavenger hunt, capture the flag, and water balloon dodgeball. The last one being his favorite, he was just supposed to be watching and making sure none of the kids get hurt, or if ever they do, he’d play medic when the need arises. Thankfully, his first aid skills were put to the backseat and he was joined in on the fun when one of the twelve-year old campers aimed a water gun at him. He had no choice but to retaliate. With his wide hands and arm support, he grabbed a bunch of water balloons and aimed at anyone within proximity, creating an entirely new chaos between the kids and the other teachers, too.

He had ended the day soaked and sore from all the laughing and running around trying to avoid the kids aiming at him. Thankfully, you had made sure to pack him extra clothes to change into. “Just in case you get a little too fun and get soaked in sweat,” you had said, ignoring Shohei’s initial comments on not needing extra clothes since he was not technically sleeping over for the night. But proven to be always right, he made a mental note to get you something special as a way to thank you for being, well, the best.  

After he had changed into his comfy cotton pants and white shirt, he bid goodbye to everyone at camp, especially the kids he had made friends with. They hugged him and some even gave him DIY goodbye presents (one gave him a bracelet made out of plucked flowers and laced it around his wrist), a tall kid with glasses who must be around seven years old gave him his precious Snickers bar, almost melted, and the youngest girl of the bunch clung onto his leg and tried to stop him from leaving. These short but meaningful interactions touched Shohei that he almost felt bad for leaving. 

“Will you teach us again next summer camp, Teacher?” one kid had asked.

“Hmm. Maybe, we’ll see,” Shohei beamed, eyeing the other teachers in response. If not for the lead teachers and school principal, he would not have been able to cross the schoolgate and reach his car. He waved one last goodbye to the kids who stood behind the gates and then drove away. 

He couldn’t wait to go home to you and tell you about his day. 

You were in the kitchen when you heard Shohei’s Corolla park in the garage. You continued tending to the Tsuyu broth and soba noodles that you were saving up for a warm day like this. 

While Shohei was out for camp duties the entire day, you were able to finish the flower embroidery design you had been challenged with for over a week now. Being new to the craft, you had a slightly difficult time understanding the patterns in the first place, but once you got the hang of it, you were on a roll and without realizing it, you were already done. You regretted buying only one design thinking it would take you longer to complete it, and also considering that you were the type to abandon something when you feel overwhelmed or had just simply lost the fixation, just like the few hundred other abandoned projects you started this year. This time, however, you were so accomplished that you couldn’t wait for Shohei to come home and brag. 

Upon his arrival, Shohei sees you busy in the kitchen, humming to Adele. He put his bag on the countertop and went straight to you, your back facing him. He embraced you from behind, leaning his chin on your shoulder and slightly shifted his weight against your body. 

“Hey.” 

“Hi.” You angled your face upwards to meet him and he planted a kiss straight to your lips. When you went back to what you were doing, he left kisses on the small spots on your neck and shoulder. 

“Hmm, I love soba. I was craving for this.” He murmured against your skin. He still had his arms wrapped around, waiting for you to finish and give him your full attention.

“Really? Didn’t I tell you that I’m a mind-reader?” you joked and turned the stove off and faced Shohei. 

“Yes and you are the best.” He did not waste another second and kissed you tastefully on the mouth. As soon as he got your attention, he made sure your tongue was preoccupied with his. 

You stayed like that for a few seconds. A slow summer day deserves an equally slow and hot makeout session like this. Shohei put both his hands behind your back and you had no choice but to push your body closer to him while you coiled your hands behind the nape of his neck, tugging a few strands of his thick hair.

“What’s gotten you so worked up today, love?” you asked when you separated. 

He pulled back, catching his breath and looked seriously at you. 

“Let’s start doing it, love.”

“Do what?”

“Kids. Babies. I want to put a baby on you right now.” He massaged your lower back and showered your neck with more kisses.

“So sudden?” You looked at Shohei with bewilderment. You weren’t angry or anything, just a little surprised that he had suddenly brought it up. You had always known to use oral and physical contraception ever since you started dating and like an unspoken promise, you made sure that your relationship would not bear anything both of you didn’t feel like committing to yet. But this was definitely something new. 

“I was just thinking… At camp, the kids loved playing with me… some even clung to me–like this–” he hugged you tightly in demonstration. “--and I almost choked up when I was driving away.”

“And…?”

“I played with kids the whole day, I realized that I really, really want to have kids.” He pouted.

In a way, Shohei had always been great with kids. You saw how he used to fawn over your neighbors’ kids and their tiny steps, how he’d wave to babies in strollers whenever you’d pass by them, smiling extra wide. 

“Like, I really, really, really do. We’ve been married for three years now. Don’t you think it’s time for us to get pregnant?”

You were silent the whole time, looking straight into Shohei’s face, and trying to see any hint of him joshing around but he was nothing but serious with his dead set eyes and determination.

“What are you thinking, love?” He asked, getting fidgety after seeing you were quiet for a while. 

“Are we even ready for kids? There are a lot of newer parents that get divorced after babies are born…” you trailed off. Shohei noticed your worry and decided to change the topic.

“I’m sorry, I won’t force it if you’re not comfortable.” he kissed your nose and pulled you into a tight hug. “The noodles look amazing! So much about my day, they can wait… What did you do all day without me?”

Dinner ensued and the pregnancy topic was never brought up again, much to your relief. Shohei was quite understanding and never the pushy type. He always made sure that when you both decide on anything, you were both in it, just like when he moved in with you after a year of dating, when you decided to get married a few months after, and then buying a house.

You felt no pressure whatsoever about creating a family with Shohei because he never pressured you or his family. You don’t know if you wanted kids at all. When you were single, you thought there was not a single good man left on earth but meeting Shohei had changed your mind. Maybe, with the right kind of man, it’d be possible to love and still be loved properly while having kids. So yes, maybe. Maybe one day, you’d want Shohei’s children but were waiting for the right time. You hoped maybe someday, bearing kids will not just be a reluctant maybe, but a definite, sure and unwavering yes. 

Not until Shohei’s sister came to town to visit a few days later and brought their two year old daughter in tow. Shohei was ecstatic. He had fallen in love with his niece the moment he met her. He’d carry her as much as he could when they visited, buying her presents for every occasion, sometimes even when there’s really nothing to celebrate at all.

This time, when Shohei had picked up his niece, Nora, from her trolley and into his arms, kissing her lightly on the cheek, cooing and swinging her back and forth along with their boisterous laughter ringing around the house, you felt something shifted. 

You felt the anxiety on your shoulders lift and leave your body, leaving you with an immense sensation of love and happiness. You sat at the dinner table watching Shohei play peekaboo with Nora while she sits on his lap, and couldn’t help but imagine Shohei carrying a baby–your offspring–while feeding her, or humming it to sleep. It sounds like a beautiful dream, doesn’t it? 

Maybe, maybe, maybe.

After they had left and the house was silent again, you cornered Shohei in the kitchen, who was loading the dishes in the dishwasher. He was humming a Cocomelon nursery rhyme which you assumed was the same song he had played on his ipad with Nora. 

“Shohei.” You tugged his arm and looked at him straight in the eyes.

“Yes, love?” 

“Let’s do it.” 

“Do what now?” He said mindlessly, pulling his sleeves down and shrugged off the kitchen apron.

“Fuck a baby into me, I said.” You raised your voice, unsure where to look.

It took him a few seconds to understand but when it finally dawned on him, he wasted no time and carried you into his arms bridal style. 

When he pushed you onto the bed, kissing you hungrily, both of you still half-undressed, he suddenly pulled back and asked, “Wait, is this your new kink now? Seeing me with kids?”

“What, no.” Your hands busied on the buckle of Shohei’s belt and when that ordeal was done, had pulled his boxers down to touch him. Like a knee jerk reaction, his hips jerked forward to your hand. 

Definitely.

“Hmm, this is going to be a long night,” he whispered, biting at the garter of your underwear and pulling it down with his teeth. “Are you sure you’re ready for this?”

Absolutely.

“I’ve never been so sure.” 

You pushed yourself up on your elbows and met Shohei’s lips, while he slowly entered you, both of you adjusting to the size and feeling. He started thrusting in and out of you hungrily, as if on a mission, determined to fill you to the brim. And you, on the brink of pleasure and chasing your high, you couldn’t help but moan Shohei’s name and said, yes, yes, yes, over and over. Like an assurance statement, like a promise.

This is my yes, unquestionably, a hundred times over.

[vaaaaaiolet]

You move to the big city in search of bigger and better, so naturally, you get your first place.

You just don't anticipate the roommate that comes along with it.

f / m, strangers / enemies to lovers, slow burn, hijinks and shenanigans, leon is bad at feelings :( but don't worry because there will be so much fluff omg like a romcom, leon being a little shit to a sweetheart pipeline, and banter!! so much banter

inspired by the Japanese drama Good Morning Call!

catch up on earlier chapters // read on ao3

chapter 4: legalese, chimney sweeps, and a partridge in a pear tree

a/n: this is a REUPLOAD bc i've been told my first post didn't show up in tags 😭 thank you so much if you read the original upload, it means the world to me :,)

I KNOW I TOOK FOREVER but i was fighting to get this written omg. so many ideas. my head hurts. if you can find the spiderman scene we are now due for a spring wedding. andrew garfield peter parker >>> but as always, i love u LOTS!! enjoy <3

There are all kinds of upsides to having friends in high places, but when your connections are limited to the four walls of Wok and Roll Ramen Noodle, the best you’ve got is Hikaru Uehara: an unlikely junior-year friend, the owner’s son, and law student extraordinaire. Apron tied with a clumsy knot behind your back, you slip inside the tiny shop only to meet his sharp eyes across the bar. Oof.

Hikaru frowns. “You’re late again.”

“I know, I know, but I’ve actually got an excuse this time,” you try for a winning smile, peeking at the book he’s currently nose deep in. 

“It’s always something with you. Still house hunting?” He slides a bowl of kitsune udon across the bartop, “Number 43, table next to the creepy painting.”

He shoots, he scores! You catch the bowl and head off to the hungry patron.

“You know, my dad finished our basement yesterday and we’ve got an empty room now. I told him I’d ask you.” 

“Because you’re offering it free of rent, right?” 

A not-at-all-subtle grin pulls at the corner of his mouth. “What about an employee discount?”

“In your dreams, Uehara.”

43 asks for an extra pair of chopsticks, which you gladly deposit before taking the barstool opposite the shopkeeper’s son. It turns out he’s reading one of his textbooks for law class. Perfect. You roll up your sleeves and bust out your CEO face again. 

Here goes nothing. “I kind of got myself into a mess.”

“I don’t want to hear about the thing with your fern and the toilet again.”

“What? No, ew,” you wave all associated memories of that away, “no, seriously. I found a place, but I’m kind of…stuck in it. I need you go all Elle Woods and help me because I got scammed.” And also broken into, but you mentally plead the fifth and avoid self-incriminating yourself. “The lease is forcing me and this other guy to share the place and neither of us know how to get out.”

That gets his attention; Hikaru puts down his textbook. “Okay, maybe you do have an excuse this time. What the hell?”

The Sparknotes version is that you and Leon both filed for the same apartment within half an hour of each other.

Number 44: cold soba.

Your landlady’s as good as fled the country. Leon can’t reach his either. Hikaru sucks his teeth.

Number 45: miso soup.

You’ve both agreed to share the apartment for the three months of the lease considering the mini fortune of money blown on the deal.

“$6000? Really?” he gasps. “You do know how much this job pays you, right?”

“Then pay me more!” you shoot back, multitasking refills while balancing a full tray. 

45 again: miso soup on the house. Hikaru hands you a mop for your spill as you glare, but pulls out his laptop all the same.

“Well, if you’re fine with sharing the apartment for two more months…” he hums, typing away and whistling in approval as he finds your apartment listing, “your place isn’t bad at all considering the price. Plus, you can’t request to move back in just like that if we lodge a complaint and you win. What if this Leon turns out to be an alright roommate?”

His question irks you a little. Why would you want the apartment back with a weirdly cagey roommate who shotguns (emphasis on gun) the master bedroom? You’ve got reason enough to want a place of your own after the shitshow that was college last year. You wonder if you should lay out all Leon’s teen boy-esque rules about not touching his things, but Hikaru shakes his head the minute you open your mouth.

“I know it’s not what you want to hear, but maybe the best course of action is to wait the storm out.” 

He sounds sincere for once, turning the laptop screen around to show you a 37-page long document with your building’s name embellishing the top. His fingers just keep scrolling, and scrolling, and scrolling, and dear God.

"That's the complaint form?" Your shriek rattles 45’s bowl worryingly.

“The first half, yes. Should I email you the second?”

Number 46 has the nerve to comment on your face looking more blanched than her bok choy.

That evening, you close the Wok and Roll with a heavy heart. Your phone pings as you double check the locks.

[Hikaru]: srsly ur best waiting out ur contract

Well damn, Hikaru. Friend of the year.

[Hikaru]: but since u asked (and rescued that last order)

[Hikaru]: i’ll still look for ways to get u out of there and on ur own

[Hikaru]: after finals tho

[Hikaru]: and once u start coming in on time!!

You pump your fist with a self-indulgent whoop outside the restaurant doors. Hikaru might be a pain to deal with sometimes, but he really did come through when he wanted to. Consider your now-thriving toilet fern that he put together a pot for, and soon with a little bit of luck, your eventual solo apartment life. 

You eagerly text back a thank you. Not even the winter air buffeting your face could put a damper on your mood as you skip back home to your apartment, and consequently, to Leon.

Or at least you thought you were. The apartment is lovely and warm and quiet when you unlock the front door. 

“Hello?” You call out for him, looping your scarf onto the wall hook.

No response. 

Leon’s bedroom door’s cracked open though, and the light looks off. It’s only 7 PM. Did he tell you he was going out? Crap, you realize how ill-prepared you’d been to not get his number or anything before you left. Rookie mistake. This roommate business is harder than you remember.

You toe off your boots and tiptoe toward the master bedroom. 

No messing in each other’s rooms, Leon’s phantom voice prods at the back of your head, but your concern for his wellbeing — okay fine, maybe you just want to peek at his stuff that’s so damn secret — takes over as you push his door open and slip into the darkness that’s making it impossible to see.

So you flick on the nearby lamp.

And then you scream. “What are you doing?”

Tucked in bed as snug as a bug and fully dressed, complete with shearling jacket, is Leon Kennedy with his face dirtied to high heaven. He blinks crossly as the lamp flickers to life. 

“Huh?” His voice is gruff with sleep.

“You’re sleeping…like that?”

He looks down as if registering himself for the first time. “I’m…yeah. Tired.”

“What happened to your face?” you ask, sounding reedy. “It’s filthy.”

“It is?”

You nod sharply.

“Oh? Oh yeah, yeah, I was cleaning the chimney.”

“We don’t have a chimney. Leon, we don’t even have a fireplace.” 

He fumbles out of his covers at your bug-eyed look. His room is absolutely freezing. “I have an explanation, I swear,” he starts as you back into the living room. Leon looks even grimier in the light: soot dusts his shoulders like powdered sugar, ages his hair salt-and-pepper, bruises the knees of his jeans. “Last night, I couldn’t sleep. There was something wrong with the heating so I went to check.”

Your room is perfectly warm. The house is perfectly warm.

He nods. “That’s cause I fixed the rest of the apartment, my room’s sti-” And then stops, narrowing his eyes. Whatever Leon did to fix the heating couldn’t have kept the temperature from dropping several degrees as he hisses, “You came into my room. We had a deal.”

“I had no idea you were even home!” 

“Doesn’t negate the fact that you broke the rule.”

Everything flips in a second; he’s glaring daggers, and the entire situation is so petulantly infuriating that you take his bait. The snow from your coat is making a melted mess on the carpet. Leon’s still in his stupid dirty jacket. The living room is half-unpacked from moving in literally the day before, and you’re already having your first argument with your roommate over stepping three feet into his bedroom.

“What is so goddamn important about the stuff in your room?” you finally explode. 

“You don’t get it.” 

“Leon,” you sound embarrassingly close to pleading now, “you wanted this – this whole sharing thing – but now you’re not giving me a chance?” You let your arms fall to your sides. 

Hikaru wanted to know if you could last three months. But as Leon stares at you, jaw working like he’s having a one-man argument inside his mouth, you wonder how you’ll tell your friend you couldn’t even last three nights. Frustrated tears prick at your eyes. You’ve never been good on the debate team back in high school. How long is it going to take for Leon to snap at you for that too?  

“It’s not you,” he says softly.

You smother a sniffle with your coat sleeve, making him sigh. 

“It’s not you,” he repeats, shaking his head to himself, “God, Hunnigan, you’re never this sloppy…” Shucking off his coat, he drops it on a box labeled Seasonal Decor #2 before heading back inside his room. He appears moments later with a box of tissues. “Take one before I get them covered in coal, yeah?” 

As you hesitatingly accept, you take in his form sans jacket. Leon is – alarmingly built, for one – covered in scratches. Bruises. Real ones. Fresh.

They’re littered along his muscled forearms, right up to the tops of his fitted black shirt sleeves. He’s so close to you that you even notice a silvery scar topping his right cheekbone.

“Are you…okay?”

Mystery swirls around your roommate like the soot he’s covered in. You ball up the tissue in your hand as his brow gradually smooths out, anger dissipating. 

“It’s my job,” Leon reveals. “Everything, this apartment, the stuff I’m keeping in my room, I…I work for the government, okay? This apartment was supposed to be home base for me. There’s stuff in there I can’t have anyone messing with. Stuff that could hurt you.” He pulls out a gleaming badge and lets you inspect it as your hand slowly flies over your mouth. “See?”

The gun in his pocket. The phone call. 

“But you’re not going to hurt me…right?” you dare to ask.

Leon’s eyes go wide, blond head shaking swiftly. “Never, I swear. Trying to do the opposite, actually, but that’s not going too great right now. I’m here to stop somebody from getting their hands on something that could hurt a lot of people.”

It’s a little surreal. Your once-burglar roommate turned government agent blinks at you like you’ll turn any moment, like you’re about to scream and run for the hills, so he can’t help but flinch as you reach for another tissue and whisper, “Can I?”

“Can you what? I can’t let you look at my things, again, I-” Leon tilts his head as you wrap the tissue around your index and middle fingers, and then rifle through the Seasonal Decor #2 box. “What are you doing?”

“Got it!”

You turn around, revealing a modest first aid kit in your hands.

“You keep that with your Christmas decorations?” He lets out a short laugh.

“I drop a lot of ornaments. Should really invest in plastic ones.” Fishing out a small bottle of ointment for Leon to see, you shoot him a redeeming grin. “So can I?”

He smiles. “You may,” Leon concedes, allowing you to settle him on the couch.

Leon’s bedroom seems to drop in temperature as the evening blends into night, falling to a bewildering 38 degrees while the rest of the apartment remains toasty. Ice might be frosting his windows, but thankfully, it only melts between you and Leon as you dab ointment into his cuts and he entertains you with sanitized anecdotes from his work around the world. The living room clock ticks to 10 o’clock as you two share the next best thing to dinner: a stash of rice crackers swiped from the back of the Wok and Roll. 

“There’s no way you’re sleeping with a jacket on.” You jut your chin towards his room, hissing in sympathy as he jerks from the alcohol sting. “It’s just as bad as sleeping outside in the snow.”

“I’ll sleep on the couch,” Leon munches. He holds out a cracker for you to bite, an oddly intimate gesture that he doesn’t seem to put as much thought into as you, “it’s plenty warm out here.”

“And have you spend the night on a lumpy sofa with a million bruises on your back? That’d be evil, Leon.”

He shrugs. “I’ve slept through worse.”

“Yeah, because you were probably halfway across the world in some random jungle!” 

“It was just the one mission, come on,” he protests, his eyes sparkling with mirth. “I’ll be fine, I promise.”

You shake your head. The tail end of his bandage tucks neatly under his arm as you finish patching him up. It’s been an eventful night, and with each genuine laugh you share with Leon, the more you feel like extending an olive branch for everything that’s happened so far. You even feel a little bad for the Lena thing.

“Sleep in my room for the night. Take the bed,” you suggest.

“It wouldn’t be very chivalrous of me.”

“And calling dibs on the master bedroom was?”

“I needed space for my equipment!”

You lift an unimpressed brow.

“Touché.” Leon gives in, chuckling.

So it’s settled. You pull out a mass of blankets from a box next to the fridge (Winter Camp Sophomore Year EMERGENCY SUPPLIES) which Leon insists on expertly fashioning into a nest beside your bed. It’s piled high with pillows from his own bed by the time you come back from brushing your teeth. 

“It makes me feel better about this whole thing,” he admits when you laugh at it. 

It’s either him or his pillows that make you feel warmer sleeping on the floor than you did in your bed last night. Leon's unexpected warmth might be your Christmas miracle to make up for this apartment fiasco. The stars twinkle outside your bedroom window as you drift off to sleep.

Deep in your dreams, you miss the twinkle of something else too. 

A ping to be specific.

[UNKNOWN NUMBER]: Hiding him from me already?

back to the chapter masterlist...

comments and reblogs are very much appreciated <3 take care and i love you!

[mysteroads]

Said this earlier, but saying it again. I CALLED IT. I got *stupid close* with my guesses for what was going to happen to the LoV in the final battle, AND AFTERWARDS. Aka: Shigaraki, keeping an eye on Izuku from the next life. ⬇

MHA canon ending for the LoV bumming you out? Let me fix that! They're still dead, you still might cry, but they get a ~happy ending dammit~ and they're still an awesome found family! 💖 (links below)

It's All About the People You're With - Dabi wakes up from his coma and immediately begins exchanging insults with the ghost of his boss. 🔥💙

Indomitable Will - Tomura Shigaraki claws his way up from despair and kills AFO like the badass he is, then ditches the living world for somewhere a lot better-- and Mon-chan! With faithful Mon-chan at his side, Tomura goes on a quest to gather his League and bring them home. 🐶💖

For All the Times I Couldn't Speak - Tomura doesn't believe that Kurogiri actually loved him. Orboro Shirakumo has no intention of letting that stand, and we finally get the heartfelt conversation between Kurogiri and Tomura that we hoped for. 🖤🤍

Rain on Wisteria - In the ultimate middle finger to the old system, Atsuhiro Sako (aka Mr. Compress) lives a full life, has a family, spends all of AFO's money on a non-profit, and is delighted when his old boss comes to see him at the end of his life.🌈☔

The Sun Rose Today, Did you Smile? - a wip in progress, where Shoto comes to visit his brother at the Afterlife Villain Bar and they finally get that darn soba! 🍜🌞

[jenthebug]

Sometimes, it is my emergency.

Momo ate an entire chocolate bar! She’s at the emergency vet with Husband now.

We think Soba knocked the chocolate bar out of a gift basket I’d won at the fundraiser last night onto the floor, and Momo ate it.

I feel like an asshole for leaving that out, especially knowing how much Soba likes knocking things onto the floor.

But I’m proud of myself for being able to work out with Husband who would be faster (he was working, I was picking up Jay) and get Momo to the vet ASAP.

Hey, I sent the closest car to the patient and then to the closest appropriate hospital. Yay, work.

Anyway, send a good wish Momo’s way.

[598-inspiration]

Obsession with legacy

Kiroku accumulated a tab at the soba shop because as we can see, he is dressed in rags and may not have really had the money to pay back the owner. Being a rakugoka may not have been as profitable at the time.

However, in Kaisei's flashback, we can see that Issho is dressed in neat clothes, and he is at that point a well known name in his field based on his age. There's no reason for him to accumulate a tab at the bar.

Issho is so obsessed with Shiguma's legacy that he is imitating every single aspect of Kiroku that he can remember, even outside of Rakugo to be closer to him.

“Imitation is the sincerest form of flattery that mediocrity can pay to greatness” - Oscar Wilde

[arceus-insanity]

This is a long rant so you can totally delete if you’re not interested, though I don’t know who else to talk to about this so I hope you don’t mind me getting something off my chest: I feel really bad for todoroki.

He tried the hardest to save his villain (making a plan to stop Dabi by creating a new move, continually tried to get Endeavor to cooperate with him to meet Dabi, letting Dabi take his anger out at him, and racing meet him not once but twice, saving him from killing himself even when he was the most suicidal out of the villain trio), hell, he was the most empathetic to his villain without ever needing to see the child self because he thought they would have been the same if Todoroki didn’t get the support from his friends. Too bad Touya was so hell bent on his suicide mission with Endeavor that Todoroki couldn’t get through him the first time.

Which leads to the ending of Touya dying in a machine and the brothers still having glass stuck between them. Endeavor may have took over the ending, but Todoroki was the only one who connected to Touya by asking him about his favorite food instead of talking over him. Even then, Endeavor gets to seem cool with “I’ll handle the consequences” and Natsuo complimenting him despite him running away until he couldn’t and almost did a murder-suicide with Touya. Hell, Endeavor literally never faced any consequences in the end as the next time we see him with his psuedo-family (on another note, it feels like salt in the wound Hawks got to live out his happy family dreams while Also not getting any consequences for killing Twice as a hero). Rei sticks by him for some goddamn reason and the last thing Fuyumi talks about is losing her job because of Endeavor’s actions. Before then, the only consequences Endeavor faced was for him failing as a hero and civilians getting mad at that. Everytime someone brings up the abuse, it always brushing it aside besides Iida/Kirishima commenting on it. Sero’s “no one needs that tragic crap” doesn’t really help either since it was more about his own motivations than helping Todoroki dialogue wise. We don’t even get to see All Might’s reaction who was told in the beginning Todoroki was only born to defeat him (Endeavor actually used pronouns calling Todoroki an object in the original Japanese in this convo). We don’t get to see anyone who knows Eri (outside of Midoriya) give the same sympathy to Todoroki because now they know he went through a similar experience a decade of his life (but even then Midoriya praises Endeavor once when fighting Dabi so :/).

Barely anyone in the family comforted him on screen and it truly feels like his family fell apart despite doing his best learning about them in under a year. Todoroki doesn’t get to have that bowl of udon OR soba with Touya now.

The narrative kinda also barred him from the origin trio thing in the end, and he didn’t even get to talk to/cry about Touya to Uraraka and Midoriya (even though I personally feel like both their stories kind of fell apart because of that talk) (also he has the most complicated/interesting relationship with both All Might and his villain/brother but whateve). Todoroki is still haunted by Endeavor’s name a decade later (even if it’s a smaller shadow) and EVEN THEN Endeavor is still looked at as one of the greatest heroes. Endeavor almost killed Touya and the family for not acting sooner and he gets labeled as great. Endeavor gets to have replacement children while everyone else don’t get the justice they deserved.

He doesn’t even get his rising title in the anime!! They took it away from him!! The anime wants you to think all of the Todoroki family saved Touya, but Todoroki did 90% of the work!!

This might seem odd change in topic, but Tenko/Shigaraki has a lot of parallels to Todoroki, and I guess their abusive guardians taking over their plots and leaving behind tragedy can be added to that list.

I’m so mad Endeavor got to live… Though it seems like anyone didn’t get any justice about their abusers besides Eri.

I’m not the biggest Shoto fan, but I’ll do my best to focus on him for this

You know, I’d say there are three levels to why I hate Endeavor so much.

He is a shit guy. He’s an abuser, who’s entire reason is oh he didn’t get first place in a popularity contest, and couldn’t be bothered to try and be decent to the public.

The narrative refuses to acknowledge it. His actions once All Might is forced to retire are all massively downplayed mixed with excuses, and he gets an undeserved angst fest every time he faces even the possibility of consequences.

Every other character and the plot has to be sacrificed to prop him up.

And even after Endeavor’s ‘redemption’ and cryfest at the hospital, the whole fucking family puts Shoto at the center of everything. As if that hasn’t been one of the main reasons everyone in the family (except Endeavor who gets nothing but benefits from this) is struggling. If either Endeavor was dead, or Shoto was allowed to hate Endeavor, things wouldn't have turned out so badly.

I saw a fic a while ago and the premise was that the rest of the Todoroki family was with Touya and Shoto was left all alone. And even just reading the fic’s description I’m thinking what are they talking about they weren’t there for Touya, they were there for Endeavor!

Shoto is the only one who talks to Dabi, everyone else is at mass talking at him, in both the battle and epilogue. The battle the rest of the family is just victim-blaming/ scapegoating Dabi blindly, not questioning anything. Natsuo, Fuyumi and Rei don’t say a single word to Dabi after, no they’re talking to Endeavor, they only get a few minutes to see Dabi, possibly forever considering the prison system, and they spend it on the Manbaby. Shoto only manages to ask one question at the end, while they're being forced out, which Dabi demonstrates that he aware and was willing to talk to the best of his abilities, the family just couldn’t be bothered.

I’m disgusted by 1A, UA, the other pros, etc, ’s response(s) to the reveal, no one ever asks if Shoto is okay, or his feelings are. They all just assume, and earlier in the series we see Midori-enabler-ya tell him that he’s forgiving Endeavor, and that shows he’s moving on. Forgiveness isn’t needed to move on, and I believe can very much get in the way of it. And that’s the closest we get to anyone actually caring about Shoto’s or any of the other victims feelings that weren’t the villains.

I wish I could say I was surprised by Rei (or Fuyumi) but I’m not. Rei basically tells Natsuo and Fuyumi they have to forgive him because he sent her a flower. Besides the disturbing parallels from "Harlequinade" Batman: The Animated Series except this one sees it as a good thing. This moment and the continuing progression/ reveal of her character, never made me think highly of her. She reads as someone who is massively codependent and an enabler, regardless of the reason for that, that is the result

Natsuo I was disappointed by, he was the only one who didn’t see the bare minimum of effort from Endeavor as reason to forgive/ forget everything he’s done. Yet in the final showdown he directly blames Dabi for being difficult.

And about Eri, I firmly believe that she was only helped at all because Overhaul was a villain outside of abusing/torturing her. If he was an ‘innocent’ civilian, hero, or part of the commission, they would have given(read forced) her back without hesitation or a second thought, they basically did that anyway when she was first introduced. Here’s a link on what I mean https://www.tumblr.com/thr0wnawayy/764328039502987264/whats-your-opinion-about-eri-i-mean-shes-cute?source=share And a whole lot of @thr0wnawayy ‘s first reblog could be taken and applied to Shoto

[calicovobo]

Cat Chronicles 2

Summary: Todoroki’s first meeting. 

Word Count: 1201 

A/N: Welcome to part 2 of the mini Cat Chronicles series! Unfortunately I decided that I will not have a taglist (for now) so apologies to anyone who wanted to be tagged! Nonetheless, I hope everyone is doing well. <3

Part One

Todoroki never saw himself as an animal person. He was always too busy enhancing his powers, defying his father, and aiming for the top. He didn’t have any time to spare for mediocre tasks such as playing with dogs or petting the soft fur on cats. But sometimes he did wonder what it would be like to have a companion who stuck with him unconditionally by his side. 

‘That damn old man.’ Todoroki couldn’t take being in his house anymore when that bastard he calls a father was there. If he had to face the man who makes his life a living hell for another second, Todoroki would feel like he was going to actually lose it. Hearing his remarks over and over again of “You have to get stronger, Shoto,” “You must surpass All Might,” and his favorite “SHOTOOO” whenever he was in the presence of his son drove Todoroki to oblivion. And, with a glare and a small “tsk,” Todoroki left the building to cool down. 

He didn’t really have a definite destination he wanted to go to; he just knew that if he stayed in that house any longer, he was going to end up breaking something…or someone. Walking along in the evening skies, he decided to head to the convenience store in search of a nice cold bar of ice cream. Though he would’ve loved a cold bowl of soba noodles, he figured that since he was going to have dinner later, he might as well have a sweet treat in the meantime. 

Finally arriving at the convenience store, only about 20 minutes from his house, he went straight to the freezer aisle to pick out the popular ice cream brand he knows kids and adults alike enjoy. After paying and leaving the store, he opened up the rectangular, creamy popsicle and took a bite. 

‘Oh my gosh! Look at those lights! And those lights! And those! Wahh, they’re all so pretty’. You couldn’t help but be awestruck at the bright lights surrounding you on your ventures into different alleyways and building slots. Convenience store lights always shone the brightest, if only you could see them from the inside! Distracted by the lights, your focus was interrupted when you got a waft of a delectable, fresh scent coming straight from the direction of the store you admired. You were instantly entranced by the scent; it was like nothing you had ever smelled before being a stray accustomed to the streets. 

Toddling over while making sure to keep quiet, you made your way to the source of the captivating scent. ‘So cool, so cool! He’s so tall!’ As you finally got a glimpse of your target, you couldn’t help but admire his put-together stance and handsome features. You had a thing for attractive people after all. 

Todoroki was lost in thought; he wasn’t thinking about anything in particular, just staring off into the distance as the fluorescent lighting from the convenience store logo shone on him. He was trapped in his own world, occasionally taking a few bites out of his ice cream when he felt a little nudge by his foot. ‘Eh?’ Slightly startled, he looked down, and there you were, a small calico cat sniffing away at his ankle. He didn’t know what to do. He never had to interact with animals before, besides that one time when his first grade teacher brought in her bunny for the class to see, but even then, he didn’t take up the chance of petting the cute rabbit. The only thing that he could think of to tell you at the moment was, “I don’t have any food for you.” But, despite his words, you kept on exploring. 

‘It smells even better up close!’ You couldn’t get enough of his scent, wanting to rub yourself all over him in order to get it on yourself and carry it wherever you go. But you couldn’t help but notice his stiffness and how his arms stayed glued to his side. You’ve only ever encountered two types of people: the ones who are eager to give you pets and the ones who would rather have nothing to do with you. So, this was quite a predicament for you both. You, oh, so desperately wanted his hands to run across your fur in order to transfer some of his scent closer to your body, but how could you get him to pet you if he was just standing there? 

Stepping back, you looked up at him with a tilt to your head, “Hey, hey! Handsome man look over here!” Your meows caught Todoroki’s attention, and with the same tilt to his head, he questioned, “Huh? What do you want?” You took this chance to rub your body against his slightly spread legs. 

Todoroki was utterly bewildered. Just what did this cat want from him? He told them that he didn’t have any food to give, but that didn’t deter you. What else could he give you? And, as he watched you purr up against his legs, he finally squatted down with ice cream in hand and held out a singular finger towards you. 

You brightened up instantly at this sight. ‘It worked! It worked! I’m a mastermind!’ Extremely excited and proud of yourself for getting your invitation accepted by the handsome man with the best scent, you went straight up to his finger and practically collapsed on it with bliss. ‘Ahh, he smells so much better here.’ You could drown in his scent for days on end if you were allowed to; it was just that good! 

Todoroki didn’t know what he expected, but it was certainly not this. You seemed to be in utter euphoria with the way you melted under his fingers as he very gently stroked your fur. But it wasn’t only you who was having a relaxing time. Todoroki, amidst startled, started to genuinely enjoy giving you pets. He’s never experienced this feeling of softness and comfort before. And personally, he didn’t want it to stop either. 

He didn’t know how long he stayed there, just gently running his hands down the sides of your fur and up along your tail as you purred in bliss, but guessing by the sky, it must’ve been a short while. The ice cream has been fully eaten by now, with the popsicle stick thrown in a nearby trash can. Todoroki had been giving you his full undivided attention, ignoring the occasional ringtones coming from his phone and the sounds of the bell as people entered the convenience store behind him. The whole world was still going on but Todoroki felt like he was stuck in time with you here by his side. 

As the skies became darker, the scene of Todoroki crouched down with a trusting calico cat buzzing with pleasure in his hands became the most peaceful thing that happened that night. And despite Todoroki’s general cold demeanor, he found himself with a small smile as your affectionate personality got a hold of him. Maybe Todoroki wasn’t exactly an animal person but he guessed he could call himself a cat person after this, as long as all cats were like you.

[sashi-ya]

五 𝗦𝗘𝗡𝗦𝗘𝗦 𝗘𝗩𝗘𝗡𝗧: 𝐓𝐨𝐮𝐜𝐡 𝐒𝐭𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐢𝐬 𝐚 𝐒𝐢𝐧 [+18] 𝚉𝚘𝚛𝚘-𝚓𝚞𝚛𝚘 𝚡 𝙵! 𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛

✦ request: anonymous asked: Hi Sashi-ya! congrats on 5500! can I request Zoro x f! reader. prop: touch me, make me shiver? thank you! ➜ of course my love!! it's a little bit long but it's good I promise 😈🙊 ✦ tw: NSFT. alcohol usage. oral sex. dom! zoro. vag sex. creampie. Wano AU, Zoro is a ronin. ✦ masterlist

Ah… Zoro-juro, known as a ronin who can kill with the sharp edges of his three swords and also to make any man to kneel before his demonic aura. Some call him the King of Hell; Enma himself. Some say he is just a human, some others that he isn’t quite one.

On that bar of the Flower Capital, people get drunk and party until late hours. There are shamisen playing cheerful songs, couples flirting and other’s not so much. And there is also a spot reserved for him; the demonic ronin.

Several women had tried to flirt with him; and yet he has never caved in. Is not that he is married to a person, he is married to the sword. He is not interest in anything besides the rules of Bushido. What you could consider a monk, but for the blade.

But, there was someone who didn’t know the rules yet… you. You didn’t want to flirt with him, you only wanted that sword that could cost millions, if not thousands of them. Your stomach growls when you take a look from the dark at the three katanas the ronin had left on top of the countertop. And the way that green haired swordsman has passed with who knows how much alcohol filling his veins.

“Calm down, stomach. You will be soon filled with delicious soba once I sell one of those” you murmur to yourself, as you crawl like a snake towards them.

Used to stealing, you move fast and silently. Your fingertips graze three powerful instruments; they smell like blood and you could swear they are breathing as well. One, is untouchable. The other, feels like if you keep touching it will drain the life out of you… then, the third one. That should do… “Isn’t this a wazamono? Sandai Kitetsu?!”

You pick the most silent one of them three. It’s heavy, but you don’t mind. It’s time to run outside and disappear into the night. A kunoichi knows how to fade with the darkness.

You get outside the bar, the cold breeze of Wano kuni hits your cheeks. You scoff… “What a stupid ronin, falling asleep and leaving his precious treasures without supervision… he isn’t as demonic as they say he is, after all”

Your hands move to cast the ninjutsu technique, but you aren’t allowed to finish. The sharp object that is now stopping you menaces with taking your life if you dare to move a single muscle.

“Am I… a stupid ronin?” he asks, with raspy voice from behind. The smell of stell, blood and alcohol gets to your nose. His aura is so powerful it makes you dizzy, weak. You can even feel the katana in your hand aching to go back to his owner.

You swallow. He is undeniable bigger, stronger, powerful than you. And you, probably, are about to become another one of his victims…

“Can you give me back my katana, please?” he asks, and even if it was a question it sounded more like a direct order.

“Yeh- yeah. I’m-“ you stutter, moving slowly your hand back to give his sword back. You can feel on your wrist how big his thigh is compared to your arm and the subtle touch against his skin makes you tremble. You did not only think he was stupid while sleeping, but also, how extremely handsome he was.

He takes it back. Tucking it on the blue sash around his muscular waist. You, still, can’t move. The blade of a white sword still menaces with beheading you.

“I gave it back, sir. Can I go now?” you ask, trying to sound fearless and polite. But secretly, your hand tries to reach the kunai on your pants.

But that man scoffs. And it makes a shiver run through your spine… why isn’t he killing you already?

“Searching for that weapon? What were you think of doing? Stabbing my leg?” he asks, turning you around to face him.

The edge of his sword is now resting on your nape, and you are as close as you can possibly be to his prominent chest. It is, for sure, a good view to indulge in before dying…

“You are too beautiful to be doing this. You don’t know who I am?” he asks, confused and yet inspecting your moonlight bathed features.

“I might be beautiful, but I am hungry” you whisper, looking down, scaping from his steel single eye looking into yours.

Zorojuro puts down his sword and sheathes it back into his waistband. “Com’ere” he orders, snatching your arm and pulling you to follow him.

You struggle to do so, but you keep up with his pace. You may run away from him, but you know he will not let you scape… so, why bother?

The crunch of the dry leaves underneath your gettas, and the lights of the red district disappearing behind you announces the beginning of a more calmed and rural zone of Wano. The silver moonlight filters in between tall trees; it creates beautiful patterns of shadows and brilliance on the ground.

You don’t dare to ask where you are going. He isn’t telling you either. But after a good 20 minutes walk -and passing right next to the same tree at least three times- the silhouette of an old cabin appears in front of you.

He pulls you to the entrance, opening a creaking door that leads you inside of a very humble home.

“Sit there, the shitty cook left some soba” he says. And you understand he was taking you there just to feed you… after all, he wasn’t that demonic.

You try to tell him no… but your stomach growls so loud that you can’t even say anything and so you obey. There isn’t much around, but it is enough. It is better than your home, after all.

The ronin puts a plate of soup and noodles in front of you. The little table also creaks, but it looks just fine. “Here. Eat” he says, pointing at the bowl with the biggest hand you’ve ever seen on a man.

You look up at him, there aren’t words to express how grateful you are for his kindness. You tried to steal from him, while he is helping you.

“Go on. It will get cold. That stupid cook will be pissed at me if a woman like you doesn’t eat his food properly” he says, turning around. He walks towards a little shelf, where a few bottles of sake rest.

You nod, joining your palms to thank for the meal and start digging it. You don’t want to look desperate… but when was the last time you ate something hot, and so delicious? You aren’t sure if that’s ever happened in your life.

Zorojuro pulls the cork out of the bottle with his teeth, showing you the way his neck muscles work when doing so. His sharp mandible, as delicious as the plate you are eating. He takes the bottle to his lips and begin to chug its contents. Why is this man so stupidly attractive?

It isn’t helping the fact that he lets his upper yukata part fall down. His wide back, scarless and huge show its caramel skin to you.

You get lost on the lustful image of a demon god getting once again drunk before your eyes. But as soon as he turns around and cleans the drops of alcohol on the commissure of his lips he laughs at you.

“You remind me of my best friend Luffy!” he scoffs, coming closer to your dumbfounded you that has now lost herself on the crossing scar of his neck.

He kneels in front of you, cleaning with his calloused thumb the little noodle on the commissure of your lips. “This should go inside… nothing should be wasted” he murmurs, taking the noodle and eating it.

You sigh. There is so much pressure inside you, that you really need air.

However, Zorojuro seems absolutely unaware of the effect he has on you and so, he stands up and flops into his futon. Like the King of Hell, he sits with his legs spread, his right arm resting on his knee and the left one taking the bottle to his lips. He isn’t delicate, he drinks that alcoholic elixir with no manners, brutally, like a beast.

Kneeling on the floor with your plate already empty, you look at him in silence. Is he waiting for you to go away? Does he want something in return? He is a man, right? He surely wants you to… repay with… sex.

You, however, have no inconveniences into complying if that’s your part of the deal and so after gaining the courage you stand up. He doesn’t seem to bother as he keeps chugging sake like a sponge, and yet looking so primally attractive.

“Zoro-juro…” you say, standing right in front of him. You try by all means not to show him how your voice gets trembly. You aren’t scared, you are horny. You are desperate, as if there was an invisible force of perversion pulling you towards that man… a sinful impulse Enma itself would applaud.

“Hah? You want sake? Aren’t you a little bit demanding, woman?” he asks; of course, he is not giving you his precious liquid. But you don’t want that…

You untie your upper part, letting it fall to the ground, exposing your breasts to him. “Zoro-juro, touch me… make me shiver” you purr, hoping that your body is to his liking.

He chokes with the wine, opening his healthy eye widely. “What- woman, what the fuck? You-“

“I have no money to repay you for your attention; hope this is enough” you tell him, kneeling right in front of him as if he was some kind of God you are submitting to.

The green haired man leaves the bottle on the ground and sits properly. “I don’t want anything in return. You were hungry, and so I fed you” he says, yet, his voice feels a little trembly now. Is it, perhaps, that this samurai is getting interested in your body?

“Use my body, sir” you moan. “You really want me to? aren’t you a little bit straightforward?” he asks, amazed.

Lifting your gaze to him, giving him a look of pure lust and desire, you answer his question. And you let that man speechless.

A smirk, so deliciously sexy, appears on his lips. The intense aura around him makes you short of breath, knowing exactly how difficult it will be for you to walk tomorrow morning.

“Very well, then. Come here… crawling” he grunts, taking his arms behind his neck and flopping back to his futon against the wooden wall. “Enjoy desert”

You reach for his body, crawling on all fours. Playful hands, avid for discovering more of his anatomy, untie the sash that holds his yukata closed. It’s exceptionally delicious, not only the perfect sculpted muscles of his lower stomach, but also the natural scent of his skin. He might not have bathed today, but somehow it makes you so attracted to his flesh.

Bending forward, you plant the first kiss over his right hipbone. It makes him grunt. You plant another one, this time closer to his belly button. Another grunt in response, so sensitive his muscles spasm.

And he might meditate and take things slow, but not this… Zoro passes his huge hand through your hair, pulling from it to make you look up at him.

“Show me what those lips can do, woman. Com’ere” he says, helping you crawl on his lap. You sit there, feeling his hardness already hitting against your core. You can tell he is not average… of course he isn’t.

His lips approach yours so slowly, killing you softly with the wait. You smell the sake, and soon you taste it too when his tongue encounters yours. Zorojuro goes slow at first, so deliciously and sinful, with his huge hands pressing you by your hips against him.

You moan into his mouth, allowing him to breathe your desperate sinful melody. He smirks with his lips still pressed into yours, and with his hand he reaches for the bottle next to him.

“Stick your tongue out”  he commands, and you do. The bittersweet liquid pouring into your mouth overflows and drips from the sides of your mouth. And he doesn’t let a single drop go to waste, as he licks the alcohol right from your skin.

He hums; he is pleased to discover sake could taste even better from your skin that the bottle. And he does, he empties the rest of the bottle all over your body. It wets your pants, and it’s ok… they were pretty much wet already. It pools in your belly button. It bathes your nipples. And there is nothing that Zoro is more addicted to than sake itself.

Like a beast; like a demon, he starts licking up and down. Sucking, devouring. He bites and pulls from your nipples as if he were to obtain more alcohol coming from them. You can only whine, letting this man taste every single corner of your flesh.

“Ugh… woman. You are delicious” he growls, turning around, putting you against the mattress beneath you two. He pins your hands up your head against the futon. Just one of his huge hands is enough to grab both your wrists.

Zoro gives you those deathly smirks; those deadly smiles of his. Get. Ready. To. Die… by the hands of the King of Hell.

Your pants get pretty much ripped. No need to take them out. Sex exposed, so juicy and tempting. Like the soba plate you devoured, is your cunt the one to get eaten.

That strong ronin lifts your legs up, letting them fall over his shoulders. He kneels, so that your body gets lifted up just enough for him to be comfortable, as he gets ready to taste your honeys. And he attacks almost immediately, with a wandering tongue that gets in between your labia reaching for your clit. He also presses down your belly; you aren’t sure how expert he is, but you are sure that if he keeps going that way you are going to come almost instantly.

The sounds of his tongue traveling up and down your core makes you shiver, the way he touches and desperately wants to drink more of you, too. Zoro licks up and down, around, and inside. From your rear entrance to your clit, and vice versa too.

Moaning, shivering, contorting, arching your back, loosing humanity you mewl like a mere animal enslaved of pleasure. Climax, spasms and his scoffing. Zoro is enjoying your reactions so delighted. But he is not over, you aren’t either.

The samurai lets you rest for a couple of seconds on the futon. In between your blurry vision, you can see how he totally undresses himself. The fabrics covering his pelvis finally fall to the ground, as he walks up to his holly shelf of alcohol provisions.

You watch him take a drink of a new bottle, leaving it aside for after as he comes to you again. “That damn cook, look what you made me do… you and your delicious food” he murmurs, almost laughing.

You wonder who that cook is, but, if he is the one that cooked that soba you are more than grateful for it. However, you are even more grateful for Zoro’s parents, how much they loved each other to create such a beautiful being.

You bite your lips, as you watch him approach you he throws his shoulders back. He is definitely getting ready to fuck you, and you want it so badly.

“I think I wanna fuck you from the side, woman” he says, grabbing you from your ankle to turn you to your side in a swift, violent motion.

You giggle as he does so, still a little dizzy from your past orgasm. And he does too, yet, his dark tone only announces you that you are about to stop laughing…

Zoro flops right behind you, also lying on his side and lifting your leg up. He comes closer, hitting his chest with your back, passing his hand underneath your neck and grabbing it after.

“You want me to fuck you, hm?” he whispers in your ear, passing his free palm from your hips to your waist and from there down your belly. It makes you shiver, his presence, his touch, his voice, how big and hard he is.

The green haired samurai bites your shoulder, making you squeak in pain. And in pleasure too. His hardness searches for your entrance by itself, but he doesn’t penetrate you quite yet. He enjoys the way your juices mix with his, how you wet his tip getting it so perfectly lubricated to finally abuse your entrance.

“Zo- zoro… please” you beg, you wanna feel him deep inside you. He squeezes your neck as you plead, cutting your airflow for some minutes.

“You want my dick inside you? Is that what you want?” he asks, barely letting his tip slide a few cm inside your entrance.

“Pl- please…yes, yes” you whine, resting your nape against his chest. Inhaling the scent of his skin, the manly perfume of testosterone. Getting so drunk with it, with passion, lust and low instincts.  “My king, my king of hell… fuck me, please”

Zoro grunts, and with a violent thrust he finally deeply penetrates you. You whine, loud. You moan, even louder. It feels as if your insides were breaking in half, the way he fucks you so raw and rough.

You become a dumb piece of flesh and pleasure, drooling against the white fluffy surface of the bed, as he goes in and out so violently. His hips are the best punish for stealing you could have ever received.

He keeps going, almost as if his stamina was endless. Zoro moves you, from the side up his hips. You end up in reverse but is not you who should move; you couldn’t either. His hips buck up, your back pressed against his chest, your arms hanging from the sides, your legs too. The samurai fucks you as if you were weightless, as if your body had become inert to him.

You rest the back of your head on his big chest, taking a look to the back and side in total misery, climaxing for the third time perhaps. You can see how much of a demonic expression he has, showing he indeed has earned such rename because of a tangible cause… Zoro looks like the devil himself, an extremely hot demon.

“Take my cum, sweet woman” he growls, with little to no warning filling your womb with his warm seed. Your eyes go blank as you can totally feel the pressure inside, bathing your clenching milking walls… a blessing from the owner of Jigoku himself… a reminder of your past actions, convincing yourself that stealing Sandai Kitetsu had been one of the best decisions you have ever made…

They say that stealing is a sin, and when you sin you are sent to suffer.   And you are glad you did, because you have just met, the King of Hell…

[andypantsx3]

screaming into the void and rattling the bars of your enclosure to ask if you saw last night’s leaks andie. i feel like they’d be very important to you.

I am so late to this because work has literally been kneecapping me fijdskfhdskf (I thought it was over but spoke to soon 😭) but yes I'm now caught up and kasdhkshdf.

Ohhhhhh my god. OH MY GOD. This chapter broke my HEART. Just plunged its fingers into my chest, squeezed my heart, and tore it right out of my chest. The soba moment literally brought me close to tears I'm ngl. And I'm so sad this is how we appear to be closing the doors on the Todofam arc? Maybe Hori will pull something out of his butt in the last 5 chapters, but...

I'm getting ahead of myself. I hope for more, obviously, but the way the individual Todoroki family members are breaking off to deal with things themselves is very true-to-life and the sort of not-quite-closure real families have when dealing with abuse like Endeavor's. It just makes me so sad for all of them. :')

[flyingwargle]

sunaosa week day 5: bento

training is often split into morning and afternoon sessions, with conditioning in the first half, and practice in the second half. the athletes are given two hours in between for lunch, many opting to return home to cook, following the strict diet created for them by their nutritionist, with a few staying at the gym to eat in the lounge, using the microwave, toaster, or electric kettle to warm up homemade lunches, leftovers, or a haphazardly assembled combini meal from the 7-eleven across the street.

komori, washio, and suna often eat together, newbies of the team. komori is a decent cook, although he hasn’t graduated beyond burnt eggs, soggy rice, and using soy sauce to season everything. washio is better, often spending his weekends experimenting with new recipes, like barbecue-glazed ribs, butter shoyu chicken, and tonkatsu ramen.

suna, on the other hand, can’t cook to save his life, unless it’s reheating leftovers or adding noodles to boiling water. and yet, he brings a bento made with love every day – grilled fish, seaweed salad, pickled vegetables, and absolutely divine tamagoyaki that komori always steals whenever he isn’t looking.

“hey, guys!” nagito slides into the empty seat beside komori with his 7-eleven haul – three onigiri, two sandwiches, several energy bars, and a carton of juice. “what’s everyone eating?”

they show him their various bento boxes, but nagito only whistles at suna’s. “the boyfriend does it again! i thought the two of you are long-distance?”

“yeah, but he’s staying with me for a month as a break,” suna replies. “i tried telling him that he doesn’t have to cook for me, but i can’t keep him out of the kitchen. he’s been stressed out lately with the restaurant, and i want him to cook for fun while he’s here.”

“maybe he can give motoya a cooking lesson,” washio suggests. “pivoting your focus away from work to instructional might help him relax.”

“are you saying that my cooking sucks?” komori asks, showing off his poor bento of rice covered in furikake and soggy karaage that he picked up yesterday at the supermarket.

"yes. i could use a lesson, too. i want his expertise on how to grill fish.”

suna nods, taking his phone out. “sure, i can ask. you want in, nagito?”

“might as well,” he chirps. “it beats having combini food every day!”

the middle blocker sends a text to his boyfriend, and they continue their discussion about coach’s proposed rotational changes, and the exhibition match scheduled at the end of the month. when practice starts again, they pack their bento boxes and head for the locker room.

komori eats the same thing every day, so he makes a game with nagito to predict what protein their teammates will bring. washio is more of a red meat guy, but suna often has fish, until one day, he brings a huge container of pork gyoza to share. “’samu was experimenting with a new recipe,” he said as explanation.

“osamu should move in with you permanently,” komori says, plucking another gyoza from the tray.

“trust me, we want to. maybe in the future.”

it continues for the rest of the week. after the weekend, the group gathers for lunch, komori proudly revealing his soba noodles instead of soggy rice. “you upgraded,” washio remarks. today, he has sushi made from scratch.

“nagito and i split a huge pack of soba noodles! the supermarket sold bottles of sauce too, which helps.”

“oh, you went with boiled noodles!” nagito slides into his seat beside komori. “check out what i made!” he lifts his lid off, the irresistible scent of yakisoba filling the room.

komori is immediately envious. “i thought you didn’t know how to cook!”

“it wasn’t that hard! i just followed a recipe online and fried everything together. a lot of noodles got stuck to the pan, though. i had to toss it.”

washio chuckles, but it’s short-lived. “i guess suna isn’t joining us today.” he was late to conditioning too, haggard with dark circles around his eyes. komori lost track of him after they stopped for lunch.

it’s about an hour into their lunch that suna appears, sliding into the seat beside washio. “hey.”

“where did you go?” komori asks, in lieu of a greeting.

“had to go back home for a bit. i didn’t want to bother ‘samu, so i came here to eat.” instead of putting his usual bento box on the table, it’s a bag from 7-eleven. inside are sandwiches, a gyudon, several protein bars, and energy jelly. he drags his feet to the microwave to heat his gyudon.

“no bento today?” nagito ventures when he sits back down. suna simply shakes his head, leaving it at that.

komori doesn’t push, but then the same thing happens the next day, and then the next. by the fourth day, he just sleeps while they eat, until nagito pokes him with his chopstick. “hey, you need food. did you bring lunch?”

“no,” comes the muffled reply.

“did something happen between you and osamu?” komori asks. “like…like…a fight? or…”

suna turns his head until he’s facing them. “no. i mean, kind of. he was being…stubborn when i tried telling him to rest more. the next day, when i came home, i found him collapsed with a fever.”

“oh.”

“why aren’t you with him?” nagito asks.

“his stubborn ass won’t let me take care of him, said he doesn’t want to interfere with my training. i asked coach for time off, but ‘samu insisted.” suna’s eyes glitter with unshed tears. “i didn’t want to make him more upset, so…”

washio places a comforting hand on his shoulder. “i’m sorry to hear that.”

“let’s buy medicine and food for him after practice,” komori suggests. “you also need food. i’ll run out to 7-eleven and grab something.”

“i’m not hungry–“

“too bad,” nagito says, snapping his bento lid shut. “you need to stay healthy if you want to take care of miya. we’ll be right back.”

after practice, they split between the supermarket and pharmacy, reconvening at a nearby restaurant to pick up takeout. they follow suna home, stepping inside the darkened apartment. “’samu?”

coughing answers him. suna doesn’t hesitate to drop his bag and kick his shoes off, hurrying to the bedroom. komori, washio, and nagito linger in the kitchen, putting takeout containers in the fridge, heating congee in a small pot, and getting a glass of water ready with medicine. washio transfers the warm congee into a bowl, nagito finding a tray to put everything on. komori carries it to the bedroom, where he hears hushed voices.

“ya don’t hafta worry ‘bout me,” is osamu’s rasp. “i can care fer myself.”

“’samu, your fever is over 37 degrees,” suna says softly. “i know you can care for yourself, but you aren’t alone. i’m here. and…” he glances over his shoulder at the trio. “there are others that want to help, too.”

komori enters, putting the tray on the desk. osamu is under the covers, cold compress on his forehead that’s slick with sweat. washio and nagito step into view, as well. “suna is right,” washio says. “we all need a helping hand once in a while.”

“just let your boyfriend coddle you,” nagito adds.

“exactly. thank you, nagito.” suna turns back to osamu. “we have food for you, too. can you sit up?”

he helps him upright, then feeds him small spoonfuls of congee at a time. the trio slip outside, lingering a moment more to observe. the couple’s voices are quiet, osamu’s resistance melting with every spoonful. the tension in suna’s shoulders lessens, replaced with a soft smile full of affection. komori guides his teammates out, putting their shoes on and collecting their bags.

osamu will be in good hands.

[angelpuns]

Even more doodles cause I also drew these :)

AND EVEN MORE INFODUMPING

So top left is Ino-san, in the fic Yuichi and Leo eat soba noodles at his noodle cart. Many things about that!

Leo says Ino san looks weird for a yokai. And he's right - cause Ino-san is NOT A YOKAI!! It isn't gonna be talked about in the fic at all, but Ino-san is actually a mutant like the brothers! Draxum is still working in secret in Hidden City Tokyo and has mutated a few humans!! idk why yet, maybe he is working with the Japanese govt. or smthn. Anyway he mutated Ino-san and Ino-san ran to the hidden city. But the ecomony there is a lot different than actual Tokyo so he sought business elsewhere and ended up in the yokai village!!

even more stuff about that: Ino-san's cart sells cold soba noodles, which are the original ramen noodle! Ramen noodles as we know them today didn't get to be popular until the 50s (not instant, but like at a ramen noodle stand) and even then the term ramen wasn't super popularized until a couple of decades later! So Ino-san is selling cold soba noodles, which are cooked in the morning and thensold throughout the day. He also doesn't have any seats at his bar because they're meant to be eaten quickly!

Noodle stands like this started popping up in the big cities in the 1910s because they were a quick and easy meal for working men and women in the city!!

Also! In the fic Leo is surprised by how expensive the noodles are, that;s because in the mdist of the war, wheat became really expensive to get and wildly drove up the price of soba noodles. In fact, they kind of disappeared until afer the 50s when rationing was over.

So that's fun historical stuff and also a huge backstory for a v miniscule character :)

Rural au masterpost